


Little Brother Blues

by KainichivonDiamond



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: 1.5 Stans au, Ford is tiny and excitable and Stan doesn't know how to deal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 05:18:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13780548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KainichivonDiamond/pseuds/KainichivonDiamond
Summary: The jacket falls into his lap as he sits up and rubs at his eyes. His sweater is comically oversized on him, the sleeves hanging past his hands. But Stan doesn't need to see them to know what they look like. He knows the face that is squinting up at him—what happened to his glasses?—by the freckles that still stand out and the familiar messy hair. “So, uh, this is a new one.”AKA the fic where Ford gets turned into a child and hijinks ensue





	1. Who is the Little Brother Again?

It's hard having Ford back; harder than Stan had been expecting. Sure, he'd figured there'd be some pain, maybe some fighting because of what happened thirty years ago, but he thought Ford would at least be grateful and that would be a foundation for them to pick up from. Stan had spent 30 years regretting that night and working with a determination to make it up to his brother, but none of that seemed to matter. Ford still hated him and, after having a home for so long, Stan would be out on his ass again at the end of the summer.

It wouldn't be as bad this time, he told himself. He's already started collecting the various stashes of money he has hidden about the house and buried in the yard. He has enough squirreled away to take care of himself for a while. He'd have more if the Shack hadn't been destroyed so many times but eh, small price to pay for the kids. Hell, maybe he'll open up another museum here in town just to piss his brother off. It makes him grin to think of tourists stopping by while Ford is trying to do his stupid nerd stuff and having to tell them that the Mystery Shack has moved.

He's thinking about how mad that would make his brother while he counts the money in the register. It's been a slow day; Stan really needs to come up with some new attractions. There's still money to be made by the end of the summer, after all. Maybe he could try passing Gompers off as a demon again? Mabel could make a costume probably better them he could; threading a needle was a pain with his eyesight. Hm. Might be time to go to the dump for supplies and inspiration.

He's debating the merits, and morality, of taking the kids to the city dump to scavenge when they burst through the front door. They look panicked but that's sort of the norm for them these days. He bets himself that they're involved with something to do with the gnomes again; the little bastards have been getting into his trash more than the boy band that lived in the woods.

“Grunkle Stan!” Dipper runs inside while Mabel stays in the doorway, continuously looking back and forth from the outside to in and bouncing on her heels. Stan shoves the register drawer closed just as the kid reaches the counter. “Something bad happened!”

“How bad? Finally found something Ford couldn't handle, huh?” the kids had been out helping his brother with something or another, a secondary defense to the weird barrier around the Shack. Which, speaking of, where was Ford? Stan has to squash a rising panic that something happened _to_ Ford because if something had then he _deserved_ it because he's a self-important ass and instead embraces anger at the idea that Ford put the kids in danger. “Where’s Stanford?” If he put them in danger, Stan's going to rescind the permission for the kids to spend time with him so fast.

“He's outside but that’s the problem, he’s—"

Stan is already out the door before Dipper can finish, because okay, maybe he's a little worried about his brother being hurt. Shut up, no one can prove anything. Mabel runs ahead of him and he follows her around to the porch where his old couch sits, upon which there's a pile that vaguely resembles Ford's stupid trench coat. Like he was some kinda cool sci-fi hero. Stan hated it. And then Stan sees a muss of brown hair poking out from under it and the whole thing moves with a groan.

The jacket falls into his lap as he sits up and rubs at his eyes. His sweater is comically oversized on him, the sleeves hanging past his hands. But Stan doesn't need to see them to know what they look like. He knows the face that is squinting up at him—what happened to his glasses?—by the freckles that still stand out and the familiar messy hair.

“So, uh, this is a new one.” he says and looks back at where the kids are standing a few feet back. Mabel looks torn on being excited or terrified while Dipper has landed firmly on the latter. Kid is twitching up a storm. Stan works to keep his tone even and composed because honestly weirder things have happened to him this summer. This is probably around the fighting dinosaurs level of weirdness in his life. “Anyone wanna tell me why Ford is a runt again?”

“We were looking at the size crystals cause we thought maybe we could make the barrier bigger but then—” Dipper starts but Mabel cuts him off,

“There was this HUGE monster and Grunkle Ford was all ‘watch out kids, this is a thing and blargh!’ and he shot it with his gun but it was all ‘eh whatever’ and then it bit him and we threw rocks at it until it went away!” Mabel is bouncing again, miming throwing something and then an explosion which she makes the noise for. Stan is pretty sure it’s only to enhance the story and in other circumstances would be very proud of her. “And then—”

“Then Ford said he was fine and passed out. Mabel ran back to get the golf cart so we could bring him home—”

Mabel wrinkles her nose, “He’s so _heavy_.”

“but by the time she got back he was…like this.” Dipper lamely gestures towards the couch.

There's a thump and when Stan turns his attention back to the kid that was his twin, Ford has apparently fallen off the couch. The stupid trench coat is on the ground, leaving the boy in the sweater that hangs to his knees when he pulls himself to his feet. He moves to put the couch between them, gripping the arm of it white knuckle tight. “I-I don't know wh-who you are or how you know m-my name,” his voice is more squeaky than Dipper's and laced with a barely restrained fear, “but I'll have you know that my b-brother will beat the heck outta you if you mess with me!”

Stan wants to laugh, wants to groan. This is just…stupid. “You got no clue where you are, huh?” he shakes his head and looks back at the kids. “Where are his glasses? And his pants?” good thing that sweater was so big. Stan spares a glance at his brother’s bare feet, twelve toes standing out clear as day.

Both of them point towards where the golf cart is parked haphazardly a few feet from the porch and Stan has to seriously fight an eye roll at the tracks they left in the yard. He’d get that cleaned up before the next tour. Dipper runs to get the glasses, which Stan snatches from him before he can run over to where Ford is starting to try to sneak away and failing as he knocks into the side of the house.

Stan might hate his brother, but he doesn’t hate _this_ version of him. He’ll give Ford all kinds of hell once this was fixed, about putting the kids in danger and being stupid and _this is why he didn’t want him around the kids_ , but if this version of him didn’t know what was going on then he didn’t deserve any of that. So Stan moves to kneel in front of the kid and holds out the glasses like a peace offering. Ford’s eyes have probably changed a lot in fifty or so years since he was a kid but it had to be better than nothing, right? Stan’s not sure, he knows nothing about glasses other than he needs them.

Ford hated not having his glasses as a kid, hated not being able to see. He’d always raise a stink when Stan or a bully would take them from him. He takes them, though he doesn’t pull his hands out of the sleeves to do so, making the act clumsy. He fumbles a bit as he puts them on; they’re much too big and slide down his nose so he has to tilt his head back a bit to keep them in place. The lenses glow a dull blue, a line like a scanner moving across Ford’s eyes, then the glow fades and after a few blinks, Ford is no longer squinting.

“Can you see now?” Stan’s not sure what that was, but the not squinting is a good thing, right?

Ford nods slowly, keeping one hand on the side of his head to keep his glasses in place. Then he tilts his head with a frown. “You look like my dad. Only really _old_.” His mouth twitches when Mabel lets out a loud snort behind Stan but then he’s frowning again and squaring his shoulders.

Stan rubs his eyes under his glasses. He hates kids, especially ones related to him. “You like stu—science fiction stuff, right? Well, this is some crazy sci-fi stuff.” He pulls his hand away to flash his best, most charming grin and moves his hands in a ‘ta-da’ motion. “It’s me, your favorite brother! Stanley!”

Ford, if at all possible, looks less impressed than he has since he came back through the portal. “I’m not _stupid_. Stanley’s my twin.” He grumbles and tries to cross his arms only to scramble to shove the glasses back up his face. His cheeks go red while he tries to straighten himself. “Stanley is the coolest ever and he’s super tough and _you’re_ a weird old man that looks like my dad.”

Mabel and Dipper are on either side of him in a blink; Stan nearly falls over as they slam into him. They’re both gripping one of his arms. “No! It’s true! You’re our Great Uncle Ford and this is Stan! This is like, magic stuff!” Dipper is the first to speak. “You’re like, the greatest scientist that’s ever existed and you’re super smart and cool and you’re the best!”

“Typically you’re both stupid old, but you got bit by a dumb forest creature so now you’re an adorable kid like us!” Mabel appears to have settled on being excited about the turn of events, given she’s grinning ear to ear now. “Hey, hey! Does this mean he’s still our uncle?” she gasps and shakes Stan’s arm. “Oh my gosh! Are we older than him? Are we the big kids?! Can we boss him around?!”

Ford takes a step back, forehead wrinkling and clearly uncomfortable with the attention. Did Ford hate being the center of attention when they were kids? Stan doesn’t remember. He elbows both kids and gives his shrunken twin a tired look. “Listen, you just gotta believe us. We gotta work together, kid.”

Ford looks between all of them for a moment before shaking his head. “Prove it!” he yells and puts his hands on his hips, head tilted back far enough to keep the oversized glasses on. “If you _are_ Stanley, which I’m pretty sure you’re _not_ , then you can prove it. Do something only Stanley would do.”

Stan’s first thought is to punch him because his first thought is usually punching Ford these days, but punching a child is, as the kids have informed him, highly illegal. And not the usual kind of illegal that Stan can deal with but the kind that will make the kids not talk to him and possibly call their parents. He looks over his brother, in the oversized sweater that hangs past his hands. Why hasn’t he shoved the sleeves up yet? That doesn’t—

Oh. Right. That makes sense.

Stan holds up a hand, palm to his brother, and with a little bit of nerves climbing up his throat asks, “High Six?” it’s stupid; the last time he said the words was when Ford was staring down at him and a duffle bag with everything he would have to his name sat next to his feet. He’s over that, he doesn’t care, shut up, but it still twists something tight in his gut.

Ford’s face shifts though, annoyance and haughtiness melting off. He still looks nervous though, but he does move. His hands are shaking when he moves to finally push his right sleeve up past his hand. “High six.” He slaps his palm to Stan’s. A small smile crosses his face and Stan feels the twisting in his gut start to loosen up a bit. Then Ford is coughing and shoving both of his hands behind his back. “Okay. So, maybe you’re my brother. Even though you’re super old.”

Stan huffs and pushes himself to his feet despite the way his back protests. He also chooses to ignore the way Mabel is clinging to his arm, causing him to lean to the side when she lifts her feet off the ground. “Alright, let’s get this taken care of. Dipper—”

Dipper jumps next to him, “I’ll go look in the Journals to see if Great Uncle Ford wrote about it! He seemed to recognize it when it attacked.” He makes a mock salute up at Stan before darting inside the house.

Stan frowns. He was going to ask Dipper to look after Ford while Stan looked through the books, but he supposes that Dipper might be better suited for it. Kid was a great deal smarter than Stan anyway. “Right. Okay. So, Mabel, can you—”

“Make Tiny Ford some clothes that’ll fit? Great idea, Grunkle Stan! I’m on it!” she drops off his arm and practically tackles Ford. She hugs him tight and lifts him off the ground; Stan is impressed by how far back she can bend her back. She rubs her cheek against his before putting him back on the ground. Ford looks extremely uncomfortable with the whole thing. “Okay, so I think you’re the same size as Dipper! This will be fun! You’re gonna be so stylin’! Do you still like sweaters? Of course you do, everyone does, sweaters are peak fashion!” and she’s off.

Well. That works too. Well, not like Ford could keep walking around in an oversized sweater, so it made sense. Stan hopes they’ll get things sorted out before multiple clothes are needed but telling Mabel not to make sweater was like telling Dipper not to sweat. Stan’s got a feeling he’ll be spending money on this whole ordeal by the end of it. Yep, it’s decided, he’s not leaving Ford a dime at the end of the summer.

A hand tugs on the end of his sleeve; Ford is staring up at him with those giant oversized glasses. “Old Stanley? That kid said I was a scientist?” his eyes are all wide and sparkling with what looks to be joy.  “Does that mean we do science on the sea?”

Stan raises a brow, “The sea?” he reeeeeally didn’t like where this was going.

Ford nods excitedly, smile spreading into a grin. “Yeah! On the Stan O’ War! Do I have a lab on it? I always wanted to put one in there but we never really had a chance to talk about it and it’s gonna take a while to fix up the boat anyway. But if I’m scientist that means I’ve got a lab, right? Like full of beakers and test tubes and _monster parts_! Ooh, do you beat up monsters and then I study them and we pay for it with all the treasure?” he’s starting to bounce like Mabel does when she gets too excited, both hands coming to grip Stan’s sleeve and his glasses sliding down his face. “Where is the Stan O War? I can’t wait to see what it looks like done! Did we paint it cool colors? Where is it docked? Is the ocean near here? Is this the house where we take breaks from or does it belong to those kids? Are we really their uncles? Where’s Shermie?”

Stan could barely keep up with Ford’s questions and the way he was rapid firing them and on instinct he covers his brother’s mouth with his hand. Ford’s mouth keeps moving for a few seconds, voice muffled, before he seems to realize what was happening. Stan jerks his hand back when he feels a wet tongue against his palm. “Hot Belgian waffles, Sixer. Calm down.” He wipes his hand on his pants. He looks around for any excuse to not deal with all of the _that_ that Ford just asked. Nope, not in any hurry to unpack fifty years’ worth of emotional baggage for the second time in a month. Or ever again if he could avoid it. Yeah, never sounded great. “Let’s get you some pants before we get into all of that.”

Ford nods and moves inside with him. He gasps once they’re in the living room and runs over to the giant skull that Stan uses as an end table. “Holy Moses! Look at the size of it, Stanley! Did you kill it? Did we find it at sea? This is so cool!” he shoves the glasses up his nose and gets on his knees to look in its eye holes. “Do I have notes about it? It doesn’t look like a water creature. Do we still have the rest of it? Stanley, you gotta show me the rest of it! Please?”

Stan slumps back against the wall and tries very hard to not just slide to the floor. This…was going to be difficult.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...enjoy my new multi-chapter romp through Gravity Falls, kids.
> 
> Also I have a headcanon that Ford has magic'd or science'd his glasses so they auto-adjust to his eyes because 30 years is a long time to go without getting a new pair of glasses and also I needed a reason for tiny!Ford to have glasses that he could see with.
> 
> art by girllikestoarty on tumblr. Go check her out, she's amazing


	2. What's the Harm in a Little Adventure?

Two days pass relatively quickly and Ford comes to a few conclusions about his future.

The first is that the Shack is nice. He's sad that they don't have the Stan O War; Old Stanley says it just didn't work out but won't explain _how_. Grown up stuff, he says, and Ford hates that Stanley can say that now. But the Shack is nice. He likes the attractions, even if most of them are fake. He wants to draw them, wants to draw new ones too but he doesn't know where to start with that. Stanley was always good at making up monsters; Ford pretended to be mad about it sometimes but really it was just fun. And Stan made money with them, which was super neat. Maybe they could buy a boat! It wouldn't be as cool as building one, but they could still go on a sea adventure together. That would be fun; he needs to ask Old Stanley about that later.

Old Stanley was weird but Ford still liked him a lot. He looks like their dad but he smiles way more, except sometimes when he looks at Ford and just stops smiling. That hurts but Ford would probably be sad too if Stanley forgot everything they ever did together so he doesn't get mad about it. He wants to be big again so they can be best friends again, like they're supposed to be. Old Stanley also has to work and tells people what to do all day and it's so _boring_. He never wants to play with him, even when he's not working and sitting in his chair in front of a huge TV. It's been two whole days and Stan _still_ hasn't played with him once, not even checkers and Stanley loves checkers because Ford pretends not to notice when he flips pieces over to be kings even though he didn't cross the board. He wants Ford to be big again too. It's very boring.

His niece and nephew aren't boring though. He learns that they're two years older than him but they're not like the big kids back home. Mabel is really nice, even if she hugs and yells too much, and he really likes the sweaters she makes for him. It's been forever since he had new clothes or even clothes just for him. Usually he and Stanley just share hand-me-downs. Heh, guess Stanley’s too big to share now. His shorts and sneakers are from Dipper though so still hand-me-down but at least he doesn't have to share. Dipper is _really_ cool and knows a lot about real monsters. He even has these books that talk about all the monsters in the town. They look through them to try to find out why Ford got turned into a kid again but he keeps getting distracted by other cool things in the books.

Like the gnomes. He found the page on the gnomes and _has_ to see them in person. Getting older can wait because _gnomes_. Mabel calls them bearded jerks because they apparently tried to marry her, which is gross, but agrees that they can go on an adventure to see them. He thinks she likes adventures just as much as Dipper does.

“What about Old Stanley?” he asks while they load up backpacks with snacks and cans of Pitt Soda. He doesn't want to go on his first real adventure without Stanley, even if he was old. It just doesn't feel right. They probably had lots of cool adventures together but Ford doesn't remember them so they don't count. They were supposed to be the greatest adventurers of all time; the New Jersey Kings. He can't go without Stanley now.

“Grunkle Stan doesn't usually adventure with us unless we _know_ it might try to kill us.” Dipper is packing extra notebooks which Ford thinks is a great idea. Dipper is really smart. “Like with the dinosaurs or the zombies.”

A gasp escapes him and he can feel energy bubbling up inside him. “You guys have seen dinosaurs?! And zombies?! That’s so cool! Can we go see those later?” he shoves his glasses back up his nose when they slip down; they fit a lot better after the kids shrank them with a magic flashlight but still slide down his nose when he gets too excited.

Mabel grins wide as anyone he's ever seen. “Yeah, but the coolest part was Grunkle Stan! He beat up a dinosaur,” she punches the air, “ _and_ a bunch of zombies for us! And then we made the zombies head explode by singing!” she makes an explosion sound with her mouth, throwing her hands out and falling back against Dipper.

Stanley is the coolest ever, no matter how old he was. Ford is gonna make him tell him all about it later because he has a right to know about how awesome Stanley is. “I want Old Stanley to come.” He decides with a nod and turns to the door. Finding gnomes with Stanley! What could be better? When Stanley was his age, he'd never have believed it. Stanley didn't believe in monsters but Ford is happy to know he did now. They studied them together! Oh, he hoped he'd been cool too when they fought the zombies.

Stanley’s in the museum, right inside the doorway that connects to the gift shop; Ford doesn't notice that a group of tourists are in front of his until he's already called out to him. In an instant, a dozen pairs of eyes are on him and he's shoving his hands behind his back. His face feels way too hot. Right, Old Stanley did tours because he worked.

Old Stanley laughs and that thankfully gets the attention off of him. “Sorry about that, folks! My nephew is a little excitable. The gift shop is right this way; make sure to grab a bumper sticker! Free with every shirt you buy if you donate five extra bucks!” he ushers them through the doorway to the gift shop, many of them talking about what a deal that was. The bumper stickers were only three dollars on their own though, Ford is pretty sure. Also he's not Stanley's nephew; Old Stanley lies a lot. Stan lied a lot when they were kids too but it feels like a bigger thing when a grown up does it.

He stiffens when Old Stanley turns to him, his smile disappearing with a sigh. Ford wants to squirm but makes sure to straighten his back. You gotta stand up tall, that's what their dad and boxing coach said, when you want something. And he wants Stanley to come with them really, really bad.

“You guys find anything in the books, Sixer?” Stanley asks while shutting the door that connects the museum to the shop. The sounds of the tourists chattering is quieter through the door and muffled enough to ease some of the tension out of his shoulders. Ford really doesn’t like crowds; that part of the Shack wasn’t very cool.

“Gn-gnomes!” he stammers out then winces. Okay, bad start. He clears his throat and shakes his head before looking up at Stanley with determination. New Jersey Kings! First adventure! You can do this, Stanford. “There are gnomes in the forest, Stanley! I wanna see them so we're going on an adventure to find them. And then we’ll look more into why I’m a kid again but first gnomes!”

Stan looks unimpressed as he flips his eye patch up. Ford thinks the eye patch is neat but he doesn't understand why Stan wears it. “What's there to find? They live in a clearing like thirty minutes from here.” He jerks his thumb towards the back of the house. “They go through our trash a couple times a month. Once they stole one of my attractions and I had to chase them back.”

Ford puffs out his cheeks in frustration; why does Stan have to make it seem like it’s not a big thing? Maybe he’s used to it, but Ford has never seen a gnome before. Well, not that he can remember, at least. But still! Magic should never _not_ be special. “That means you can show us how to get there!” he grins and bounces in place. “You can show us and I can see a gnome!”

“I’m working, Ford.” Stan frowns down at him and Ford stares back. He wins the staring contest; Stan looks back towards the gift shop and crosses his arm. “Why do you even want to see one so bad? Isn’t all the info you would want to know in that stupid book?”

Ford huffs because the book is _not_ stupid. Stan is being extra grumpy today. “I don’t want to just _read_ about something cool, Stanley! I want to see it!” he clenches his fists and pushes up onto his tiptoes, “Remember when we camped out on the beach all weekend in the Stan O War because we thought there was a sea monster coming up and stealing our snacks?” Ford knew it was actually Stan eating them all when he wasn’t looking, but that hadn’t been the point. It was about the adventure. “We stayed up all night trying to catch it!” Stan had stolen a pocket knife from their Dad’s shop and they’d carved their names on the inside of the hull. They’d both gotten the belt for that but it had been worth it.

Stan actually laughs at that and shakes his head, which makes Ford grin even harder. He rubs at his forehead, “Ma was livid about that. She sprayed us with the hose so we wouldn’t track sand inside.” This time when he looks at Ford, the smile stays in place though he still looks a little skeptical. “Wouldn’t you rather have an adventure to fix yourself?”

“We can do that later! I want to have some fun first!” he reaches up so he can grab Stan’s arm; he has to dig his heels in and tug extra hard but Stan does take a step forward. “Old me has got to have all kinds of fun with you guys, it’s my turn now! C’mon! We can see the gnomes and then I _promise_ I’ll work extra super hard to find out what bit me!” he wraps his arms around Stan’s arm when he tries to pull away; he yelps when he’s lifted off the ground. Holy Moses, Stanley was strong. “Pleeeeeease, Old Stanley! I’ll double pinky swear to work on it!”

“And here I thought the kids got it from me.” Stanley mutters before putting Ford back on the ground. He kneels so they’re on the same eye level, which Ford greatly prefers. He doesn’t like Stanley being taller; Ford is supposed to be the big brother, after all. “Okay, okay. You can go with the kids to see the gnomes but then—“

“You gotta come too!” Ford holds up his right hand and sticks out the last two fingers. “All of us! Kings of Gravity Falls! And Queen too, I guess, since Mabel is a girl. We’re all gonna go together!”

Stan sighs but he still hooks his pinky around Ford’s two. They shake their hands up and down twice and give an extra hard squeeze. “Double swear. We see the gnomes and then we focus on getting you fixed. Got it, Sixer?”

Ford nods and feels like a hundred bucks when Stan musses up his hair like he’s seen him do to Dipper before. This was going to be the best ever!

 

* * *

 

So this wasn’t exactly the best ever.

The ropes around his wrists chafe really badly and it’s worse every time he tugs on them. He keeps bumping into Dipper’s back as they’re marched through underground tunnels. Normally he’d find the large expansive network of tunnels, and the cool glowing mushrooms, very fascinating but the sharp spear that keeps poking him in the back anytime he stops to try to get a good look at them is kinda soiling the whole thing. Man, Mabel was right, gnomes _were_ bearded jerks.

The tunnels are bigger than Ford would’ve expected for gnomes, though the ceiling is low enough that Stan has to hunch where he’s walking ahead of Dipper. Ford winces at the thought of the lecture he was probably going to get if they made it out of this. Stanley seems like he lectures now when he’s not being fun. Man, this whole thing was a bit of a bust.

They’re lead to a giant central chamber with a tall ceiling from which what looks like hundreds of glowing orbs are hanging from. There’s enough passageways lining the walls to make Ford think they could get lost forever in them. He should’ve brought some of Mabel’s yarn; it could’ve been like the story of the Minotaur and the Labyrinth! Though it might be difficult to leave a trail of yarn with his hands tied up. Hm. He’s going to have to brainstorm that later. See what Dipper thought of it.

There are two thrones set up side by side against the far wall. A gnome with a brown beard that looks a lot less bushy than the others he’s seen is sitting on the left one while the other sits empty aside from a pillow with a tiara on it. There’s a picture of a girl with long blonde hair and more makeup than even his Ma wears hanging on the wall right above the empty throne. The gnome that had been sitting in the other throne seems to notice they're all staring at it because he looks back at it and quickly throws a blanket over it.

“ _Pacifica_.” Mabel says it the same way Stanley used to say Crampelter. She’s at the front of the group and has even more rope around her wrists than any of the rest of them. Also one of the gnomes put a flower crown on her head so that’s weird. They also smashed the leaf blower she’d brought with her when they captured them.

“Heh, pay no attention to that! We weren't thinking about making her our new queen after you broke our hearts or anything!” he laughs nervously, moving to stand between Mabel and the now covered painting. He clasps his hands in front of him and makes gross gaga eyes at her. “We still only have eyes for you, Mabel! And we’re so happy you decided to finally accept our proposal and become our queen!”

Mabel’s response to that, because she is _awesome_ , is to kick the gnome right in the face. “Stop kidnapping girls, Jeff! It’s creepy!” she kicks another gnome that tries to jab her with a stick. “Also, I thought you guys lived in the forest?”

“We live lots places! You don’t know!” Jeff brushes himself off. “And maybe we thought our new queen would like this better than the forest. We’re working on our pitch!” he hops back onto the throne. “Oh well, that doesn’t matter, because you’re here!”

Dipper and Mabel groan at the same time. “No girl is going to be happy if you _kidnap them_!” Dipper scowls and moves to stand next to his sister. “Geez, why do all the creeps like you, Mabel?”

“Because I’m adorable and awesome and the best anyone could ever have and I also have a pig.” Mabel says it so matter-of-fact that Ford’s not sure anyone can dispute it. “And I’m _not_   _going_ to marry you and your giant colony of jerks, Jeff!”

Jeff waves his hand like he’s trying to wave away the statement. “You’ll learn to love us! And, hey, we’ll let you keep your family! That was the deal breaker before, right?” he reaches into his beard and pulls out a rose that looks like it’s been stepped on. “C’mon, just say yes!”

Mabel tries to kick him again but the gnome manages to jump back against the back of the throne before her foot connects. “The deal breaker is that I hate you!”

“No marriage is perfect!” he screams when she jumps up onto the throne to kick him.

Stan lets out a loud yell that has everyone looking at him; Ford’s eyes widen when Stan pulls his hands out from behind his back, length of rope held in his right hand.  The rope wasn’t even broken! How in the world—Stanley whirls, grabbing a spear that was being jabbed at him right below the point and jerking. The gnome holding it manages to hold its grip, though it probably regrets that when Stan swings the spear and gnome both to slam into another one that was running towards them. That one drops the spear and Stan picks it up.

“Dipper! Catch!” Stan yells and Dipper, somehow, manages to turn and actually catch the spear. He fumbles it but it doesn’t drop; it’s small enough for him to slip it down and start rubbing the point against the ropes around his wrists. Oh! That’s so smart! “Mabel—”

“On it, Grunkle Stan!” on it for Mabel was apparently chasing Jeff and kicking him repeatedly.

Unable to do much, Ford ends up just trying to dodge spears while he watches his family fights a quickly growing group of gnomes. Dipper has his hands free before too long and quickly moves over to get Mabel free; once she’s got her hands she is taking a page out of Stan’s book and punching. Jeff tries to jump on her only to scream when he gets an eyeful of what looks like glitter and fall to the ground.

Four stack on top of each other and try to attack Stan; they topple with a single left hook. Wow, Stan really learned a lot from their boxing lessons. Ford’s starting to regret not paying more attention. Maybe their dad was right about knowing how to fight being important.

“Catch, Great Uncle Ford!” Dipper calls and Ford turns in time to get smacked in the face with the spear; it clatters to the ground and nearly knocks his glasses off too. He tries to squat to grab them but another gnome is running at him so he screams and runs away instead. He hears Dipper yell “Sorry!” but is much too busy trying not to die by gnome to respond.

Crap crap crap crap!

This wasn’t supposed to happen! Ford just wanted to see some gnomes, not fight them! Oh crud! He needs to get behind Stanley, Stanley is good at fighting! Yeah, Stan will keep him safe and then they can escape. Oh, he was going to get Stan so many bags of toffee peanuts for this.

That’s when he sees Stan grappling with what looks like a person made of gnomes, standing a little taller than Stan himself, with four more gnomes stacked up behind him. Something electric shoots through his gut at the sight of it; how can they attack someone from behind like that?

He runs forwards before he can really think about it, ducking his head so the back of it and his shoulders take the majority of the hit as he bowls into the stack behind Stan. It’s enough to collapse them before they could hit Stanley. Stanley lets out another yell and turns to slam the gnome-person into the ground, where it shatters and all the gnomes scatter back.

Stanley’s hair is sticking to his temples with sweat and his chest is heaving but his eyes are about as wide as his grin that Ford has to mirror. Ford wonders if this is how Stan feels whenever he punches bullies and if so, he suddenly understands why he likes punching things so much. He wonders if they ever learned to fight together when they got bigger; he hopes they did.

“They’re forming Gnome-tron!” Mabel yelps as her and Dipper reach where Ford and Stan are standing. She’s also got hair sticking to her face, cheeks even more flushed than normal. Dipper is panting with a hand on his knee while the other points to where all the gnomes are starting to pile together. The pile starts taking the shape of the gnome-person Stanley had been fighting but much, much bigger.

“Hot Belgian waffles.” Stanley says it under his breath and then all of a sudden Ford is off the ground.

He grunts as his stomach hits Stan’s shoulder, quickly sucking back in the breath that was knocked out of him. He kicks his legs; why hadn’t he caught the stupid spear to untie his hands?! Dipper is tossed on Stan’s other shoulder and they share a brief moment of solidarity at how much this sucks. Stanley locks an arm around his back to keep him in place while they run. Mabel runs behind Stanley while he takes off down a tunnel. Ford wants to be offended as she keeps up with Stanley but it’s really hard to once he sees a hand made of gnomes reaching for them down the tunnel.

Dipper laughs from his place on Stan’s other shoulder and cups his hands around his mouth. “Forget that you’re underground? Stupid gnomes!”

“Yeah, bearded jerks!” Mabel throws another handful of glitter over her shoulder.

“Kids, escape, then taunt the enemy! Basic rules of capture!” Stanley yells as he takes a sharp left turn.

Ford tries to take in as much as he can while being jostled by the running and while his heart is pounding in his throat. The mushrooms glow without any other light source, there’s different colored moss littering the ground. He recognizes a few things, like specific groupings of mushrooms or a scratching of different names x Queen in the walls, that he saw when they were being led in. Did Stan remember the way they were led in?

Ford was never happier to see the sun than when they burst through the branches and such that were covering the entrance to the tunnels. Stan drops Dipper who scurries over to where their backpacks were left. He takes his and tosses both Mabel’s and Ford’s to his sister. Ford kicks his feet again but Stan just tightens his hold so he doesn’t fall off.

By the time they reach the treeline within sight of the Shack, Stan is drenched in sweat and coughing from how bad he’s panting. He does finally drop Ford though; as soon as Ford is off his shoulder, Stan his hands on his knees much like Dipper next to him. Mabel stretches to be able to pat both of them of the back at the same time.

They pant for several minutes, trying to catch their breath and waiting to see if the gnomes chased them all the way back. The only sound is their labored breathing and the sounds of Mabel untying the ropes still binding Ford’s wrists. He rubs at the red, raw skin. Slowly their breathing evens out and there doesn’t be any sign of the gnomes.

He doesn’t know why it happens, maybe it’s all the energy still buzzing in his chest, but laughter bubbles up from inside him. He grips his stomach, unable to stop the peals of laughter that tumble out. It seems to be contagious; Stan start’s chuckling next to him and then the twins are covering their mouths while they giggle. Ford doesn’t even mind when Mabel tugs him into a tight hug, her face sweaty and hot when she presses their cheeks together. He even manages to get an arm around her to hug her back.

Stanley wipes his eye under his glasses, chest still shaking with laughter that won’t stop. “Holy cow that was a stupid idea. I say we have a treat after all that, yeah?” he moves his hands to muss up Mabel’s hair and shove Dipper’s hat down over his eyes. “You kids are gonna be the death of me.” His hand moves to muss up Ford’s hair next, “All three of you. C’mon. That’s enough for a day right.”

Mabel grins and sticks her hands under her hair to lift it off the back of her neck while she follows Stan towards the door. “We should probably let Pacifica know to look out for gnomes that want to kidnap her.”

Dipper nods next to her. “Last thing we want is to have to rescue her.”

Ford moves to follow but freezes in place; the hairs on the back of his neck are standing on end as the feeling of being watched hits him. He frowns and looks back towards the trees. He could’ve sworn he just heard someone else laugh. He looks over the trees, trying to spot any gnomes that might’ve followed them.

Dipper yells from the porch, “Great Uncle Ford! C’mon! Grunkle Stan’s busting open the ice cream freezer!”

A grin takes over Ford’s face and he takes off towards the porch. Oh well, it was probably nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter was super fun to write and tiny Ford gives me life. But what lies in the woods besides the gnomes? Hmmmmm
> 
> Also, the idea of the gnomes trying to make Pacifica their queen comes from the amazing Deep Woods project. If you want to see how them trying to do that works out, go check out the first episode if you haven't already https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XPasWS_qEf8. A lot of super talented people are working very hard on it.


	3. We're Going to Need Some Help, Aren't We?

Uncle rule number one: nothing puts a kid to sleep quite like a sugar crash.

That's what crosses his mind as he watches the three kids that were probably going to be the death of him, all snoring in a pile in his chair, cheeks stained bright colors from over enthusiastically eating ice cream and popsicles. Well, they'd had a very active day so that probably played into how hard they'd all crashed. Still, it was nice to have some quiet; sweet, sweet sugar coma induced quiet. Now the only question was whether to leave them there for the night or do the proper thing and put them to bed. He shakes his head and moves to scoop up Mabel first, given she's draped across both of the boys. If he leaves them out here, they’ll be bugging him first thing when he gets up to open the shop. She grumbles a little before falling right back into snoring with her mouth open.

His knees and back both hate him by the time he makes the second trip down the stairs, both twins tucked securely in their own beds. Dipper had nearly taken Stan's undershirt in his clinging little fist and it had taken some work to pry the material free. Just one more to go then he could take a hot shower and get some much needed sleep himself.

He doesn't understand his brother-turned-child. The kid is excitable about everything and it seems like every time Stan looks up, bam, there he is, full of questions and tugging on Stan's sleeve. Stan's not sure if he should feel flattered by the way his brother wants to suddenly be around him constantly or annoyed. It'll be weird when he's an adult again, that's for sure. He's going to have whiplash by the end of it. Oh well, at least he could be sure that Ford had liked him at some point; recent events had had him questioning that once again.

The day had been fun, at least, if a little insane. Spending time with the kids, punching gnomes, binging on ice cream, all the markers of a great day if Stan was being honest with himself. And maybe it was nice having three faces beaming at him and telling him how cool he was. Heh. He was getting sappy in his old age. Too bad he hadn't been the one to get shrunk; see how Ford handled kids by himself. Actually, that would probably be even more dangerous. A day with Ford had resulted in Dipper nearly having his brain eaten by a nerd wizard.

Ford is lighter than either of the kids; he'd always been small for their age when they were kids themselves. He was the older of them, for all the difference that eight minutes made, but Stan had always been bigger. Strong where Ford was smart. Better with a pretty lie than Ford was with a hard truth. It's an uncomfortable thought as he carries his shrunken brother back to the room the kids had once fought over. He doesn't like the idea of being the big brother now, even if he had often played the role when they were kids. He doesn't like the idea of being the responsible sibling, though maybe he has been that since Ford got back.

He's got Ford on the couch and is trying to get his glasses off, mostly cause they can't trade anymore if they break, when Ford's eyes open. Stan nearly jumps back, mentally swearing. "Go back to sleep, kid." He tries, looking for the blanket to toss over him. But of course, Ford doesn't go back to sleep, he sits up and rubs at his eyes under his glasses. He's yawning; his whole body looks overly heavy with sleep and Stan wishes he would just go back to sleep.

Ford shifts and pushes his glasses up his nose. "Stanley? Are you mad at me?" he hunches in on himself, ducking his head and tucking his hands under his butt. He looks even smaller than he normally does like that and Stan absolutely hates it, can feel old protective instincts roaring inside him. The same instinct that drove him for their entire childhood, for the last thirty years.

The thing is, he is mad; he's furious and hurt and he wants to punch his stupid brother in his dumb face. He wants to yell and this might be his only chance to do so without Ford yelling back. But instead, he knocks a fist loosely against his shoulder, "Hey, none of that, stop it." He moves to sit next to him, elbowing him in the side. "Why would I be mad at you, Sixer?" none of it is this Ford's fault. It's all the older Ford's fault, with his head up his own ass and ungrateful attitude and who cares if the kids like him so much? Stan sure as hell didn't. Shut up.

Ford leans into his side, not looking up and with a dejected frown on his face. He pulls his hands free but starts picking at the edges of the sleeves. "Cause I'm small and you're big and I don't remember anything. And I really wanna spend time with you and Dipper and Mabel but I know we gotta fix me and the gnomes were kinda a bad adventure even though it was kinda fun." He squirms a bit in his seat. "And there's so much cool stuff here and in the books and I want to see it all. And Dipper and Mabel are really nice. But I'm sure you miss old me."

Stan's not too sure about that, really. In theory, he does; he’d worked so long and so hard to get Ford back, to lose him for a third time is...complicated, to say the least. He still has a vague hope that Ford will get his head out of his ass and actually thank him, that maybe seeing the kids will remind him of how they used to be, that maybe a part of Ford misses him too. But that's all it is, a vague hope, and one that dimmed with each day that inched closer to Stan being back out on his ass. And maybe this kid has sparked it again because he is happy to see Stan at the very least. And maybe part of him wants to keep that.

But Stan has been selfish his whole life; he's taken enough from Ford without taking his life completely. Even he can admit that much, if just to himself and not Ford directly to avoid giving Ford the satisfaction. He can't justify keeping Ford a child because he liked having his brother wanting to be around him. Besides, not like Stan could take care of a kid long term anyway; what would he do with him at the end of the summer? Send him to school? That would take so much forged paperwork and lying and he's never put much stock in Ford's ability to bluff at any age. Stan liked scams but that one is a little outside of his wheelhouse.

"I know I haven't been the best of brothers the past few days." He rubs the back of his neck, looking away. "And I'm…sorry, for that. Things have been complicated. But," he rubs at Ford's hair and nearly laughs at the way it stands up when he pulls his hand away, "I promise I'm not mad at you." older Ford, yes. This Ford? Nah. There was too much of the kids in him for Stan to really be mad at him.

Ford finally smiles up at him and leans back enough to punch Stan in his shoulder. "Hey, Pines don't say sorry, remember?" he says it like he's trying to lecture, quoting their dad from a lifetime ago, but it's lost on the yawn that he can't seem to suppress.

Stan laughs and pushes himself to his feet. "Pines do have to sleep, though," he instructs, pointing to the blanket that's bunched up on one end of the couch. For the first time, he wonders if either version of Ford needed a bed but dismisses the idea. There was a cot in the basement if older Ford wanted it and kids weren't picky. "Get some sleep, Sixer. I'm sure you guys will have plenty to get up to tomorrow."

He's across the room with his hand on the light switch when Ford makes a little humming, "Stanley?" that gets his attention. His little twin is curled up under the blanket, glasses on the floor and eyes droopy with sleep. He smiles once more when he sees Stan looking at him. "Thanks for saving me, by the way. Forgot to say it before."

Something catches in his chest, his cheek throbs with the phantom echo of a fist, and it takes a few heartbeats for him to realize what Ford is talking about; oh, the gnomes. Of course. Not the other thing. This Ford doesn't remember the portal. He forces himself to nod and smiles even as the pressure on his chest gets thicker, threatening to choke off his air. "Anytime, Sixer." his voice is steady and strong when he says it; Ford is smiling still as his eyes close.

If he gets dust in his eyes on his way back to his room, there's no one around to see it.

\----------------

If there's anything Stan hates more than spending money, it's asking for help. Asking for help made you look weak, made you seem desperate, got you locked in a trunk in the middle of a hot Nevada summer with no way out but to bite. It's right up there with saying please on the list of things Stanley Pines did not like to do.

But, as the kids had taught him, just like the word please, sometimes help was necessary. Five days of no progress on the child Ford front was making help seem very necessary. Mostly they were held back by Ford getting too excited about something he'd found in one of the Journals and Dipper getting too excited about the chance to show him said thing; Stan should never be expected to be the responsible adult. Besides the gnomes, they'd also gone to see the dinosaurs trapped in sap, had dug up one of the zombie hands that still moved even after Stan had buried it in the backyard, and today were off to see the robotic remains of a lake monster McGucket had built according to the kids. They had an adventure a day quotient, apparently.

Speaking of McGucket; Stan frowns at the sight of the old coot's ramshackle little home in the dump. As far as homeless digs went, it's not the worst he's ever seen. Hell, better than some of the places Stan himself had lived when his car had been out of his possession for one reason or another. The McSuckIt painted on the side was a rather tacky touch but leave it to teenagers to have no sense of style or flare with their vandalism. He makes a note to talk with Wendy later, give her a lesson in the proper way to do it. Maybe she can teach her vapid friends a thing or two.

Well, he came this far after dropping the kids off at the lake, dodging Ford's questions about boats and giving them enough money to rent one because he did not want to explain his reinvention of their childhood dream. Might as well take the plunge. The metal reverberates when he knocks his knuckles against it; inside he can hear crashing and the sounds of a raccoon hissing.

McGucket had been Ford's assistant, that's what Dipper had said. Had helped him build the portal, which Stan wishes he'd known thirty years ago, could've saved him a lot of sleepless nights. Maybe he could finally have someone to yell at about the inconsistent metric measurements and having to convert them. Nah, that was a head of steam best saved for Ford himself. He'd hit McGucket with his cane enough while fighting over scrap in the junkyard to call them even on that front. Plus it was clear Ford had also ruined his life about as bad as he'd ruined his own; Stan couldn't punish him more than he already had for being a victim to Ford's massive ego.

There was a lot of banging inside and the distinct sound of a raccoon hissing before the ratty blanket that served as a door was pushed aside and McGucket squinted up at him. His face was covered in bloody scratches and there were definitely tuffs of beard missing. He frowned, "What in dangnabit are you doing here? Come to steal more of my stuff?"

"Eh, anything in the dump is fair game." Stan said with a shrug, casting a look about the place. He really needed to get supplies for a new attraction. Hmm. Stuff for later. He refocused his attention back to McGucket. "But I'm not here to steal anything. I'm actually here to," he has to swallow, his pride not going down very easy, "ask for your--well, how much do you remember now? Kids told me about the whole memory thing."

McGucket squints up at him, clearly suspicious which Stan figures is fair. He crosses his arms and starts tapping a foot rapidly, fingers twitching. His eyes seem more focused than the last time Stan saw him; maybe it's the glasses, those are new. "Not everythin, but more than I did ‘fore them youngins helped me." He concedes after a moment. "I know ya ain't no Stanford Pines even if ya stole his face. There are things that do that round here, ya know."

Stan stiffens a bit at that; well there goes his plan to feign memory loss himself to get McGucket to help. "I didn't steal his face." he's a bit defensive on that. Name, house, social security number, yeah, he'd stolen all those from his brother, but his face was his face. "I'm his brother. Stanley." it still feels weird saying his actual name, like putting on an old suit that doesn't quite fit anymore; too tight in some places and too loose in others. But his days as Stanford Pines were numbered so he should probably get used to it. What better place to start than with a crazy old man in a dump? "Doubt he ever spoke of me."

"If he did I ain't remembered it yet." He shrugs and moves his hands to start tapping an off-beat against his knees. "M' mind is all jumbled and it comes back like an old motor-majig, all stops and starts."

Those were probably memories that would never come; if not for the occasional reference in the Journals, Stan would've believed that Ford himself had forgotten he'd had a twin for a while there. Though, thinking of the Journals, "I need your help finding something you might've helped my brother study." He pulled out the stack of papers that was his copy of the third Journal. He'd gone through it probably ten times by now but couldn't find the answer, but the kids said Ford had recognized whatever had bitten him, had shoved them down before they could see more than a flash of it. "It's, uh, some sort of creature and it can de-age you if it bites you."

McGucket's eyes lose their focus for a moment after he takes the bound papers from Stan. He flips through the pages so fast that Stan wonders if he is actually reading anything but then he's turning and going back into the little makeshift shack of his, forcing Stan to follow.

It looks about as bad as Ford's house had when Stan had first taken it over; clutter everywhere. Except where Ford had hoarded papers and specimens, McGucket seemed to hoard machinery. A lot of the trash that had been here the last time Stan had peaked in while raiding the dump had been either removed or shoved to the corners to make room for half-built robots and dismantled machines. One metal sheet wall was covered in various blueprints, but also photos of a familiar looking little boy with eyes hidden behind a mop of hair. And in the back of the space is a makeshift desk, a flat board propped on an overturned barrel and two old wooden milk crates. That's where McGucket goes, setting the papers down so he can flip through them one-handed while opening an ancient looking laptop with the other.

Figuring it would be better to just let the crazy hillbilly do his thing, Stan sets about doing his own thing, namely seeing if there's anything worth stealing. There are a couple things that look like weird robot eyes and they go right into his pocket; he's got an old stuffed badger that could become a robo-badger with these and some generous use of tinfoil. Could take one of Ford's old lab coats and put it in the thing's mouth, tell a tale of the scientist that went too far. Tourists would eat that up; everybody liked seeing the big guys fall.

"Sweet jumpin' Jehosaphat on a flapnab Sunday, here we are!" McGucket's shout startles Stan out of a rather pleasant daydream about Old Ford getting ripped to shreds by a robotic badger. He has a sheet of paper in his hand but is mostly pointing to the screen of his laptop. "Ain't no point in putting anything in that dabnabit computer, Fiddleford, he said. Just a phase, he said." He's got the pride of someone that's waited years to be right.

Stan's pretty sure that Ford would never say words like ‘ain't' or ‘dabnabit' but he can get on board with his brother being wrong about something. When he moves over to the desk, he can see why McGucket sounds so proud. The page is covered in ink splotches that had bled through from the next page, like the pen exploded while Ford was writing, and then smeared like someone had tried to clean it up. Stan could see parts of a sketch and a few of Ford's notes, but nothing substantial. The word Lemur was in big letters but what came before it was lost to the ink. But, when he looks at the laptop, he can see all the words in nice even text.

"You put the Journals in a computer?" a flame of anger flickers to life in his gut. Was all of Ford's work in a computer? And he still got all pissy about Stan burning the book? Stan has to grip the edge of the board. He was going to punch Ford until they were no longer twins after he was fixed.

McGucket shakes his head, "Not all of it, least I don't think. I can remember most of what I've found in here. Kinda triggers m' memory, so I think it's just stuff after I came ta help him. Stanford weren't too good with computers back then." He leans back and stares up at Stan, "One of the kids get bit by this?"

"Something like that." His eyes scan the screen. Well. This would be fun.

_Timeless MantaLemur_

_Found this fascinating creature while trying to track signs of the time anomaly from last winter. I do not believe it was the cause of the disruption but still a lucky find._

_It appears to feed on time itself; I witnessed it bite a very old buck and minutes later it was young enough to not even have horns yet! The creature itself seemed to grow stronger after biting it, which is what leads me to conclude it is feeding on the age it takes from its prey. So far all attempts to get close to it have failed, though I did manage to get a sample of its venom. It tried to bite me but I was able to avoid it, but in doing so some of its venom got on my hand._

_My skin is softer where the venom touched it as if it's younger. Imagine how the beauty market would react if such a thing was discovered!_

_Unfortunately, that was to be my last encounter with the creature. While trying to chase after it, I ended up tripping and dropping the time tracker F built for me, which was my only way to track it. He is very irritated lately due to our work on the portal; will ask him to build a new one after that work is done._

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on this, guys! I'm moving from my apartment to a house so that's been taking up a lot of my free time.
> 
> A little bit of advancement in this chapter. Credit to Dusketh on tumblr for helping me design the MantaLemur and doing the sketches for the journal page. It was a monster idea that I've been thinking on since the throwaway joke I made about it in my last fic Journey to the Roots. I'm looking forward to showing more of it as the fic continues.
> 
> Also, I do have a Ko-Fi account and am doing give-aways with donations to help me move. For more information please check out this post http://kainichivondiamond.tumblr.com/post/171832984109/hey-guys-and-gals-and-everyone-in-between-so


	4. Are We Friends Now?

He's been getting a lot of headaches lately, ever since the day with the gnomes. He's not sure why, but they always hit him once they leave the Shack. Maybe he caught something from the gnomes? Like a magic bug or a beard infection or something. It's always this dull throb that gets worse the longer they're out, the kind that makes him just want to curl up in a dark room and take a nap while his ma or Stanley reads to him, but Ford doesn't want to tell anyone. He likes going on adventures with Mabel and Dipper; what if they stopped just because of a headache? They already treat him like a little kid sometimes, not letting him go out on his own or read certain parts of the Journals. Stanley is lying to him about stuff and whenever he calls him on it, it’s always ‘grownup stuff’. He’d hate to see what they’d do if he was actually sick; they’d probably lock him in a room until he was big again. He might not be as tough as his brother but he was tough enough to deal with this. It’s just a headache and no headache is going to keep him from an adventure.

Today they were going to an island in the middle of the lake to see a monster that was also a robot, apparently built by a mad scientist. Old Stanley didn't come with them, which was a bummer, but Ford tries not to be too disappointed. Just last night they'd played checkers and then all of them had watched movies in the living room together. Movies were so much cooler now than when he was a kid; Ford swore Hollywood had actual magic, though the kids just said it was special effects. Old Stanley was trying at least, but he still has a job and stuff so Ford tries not to get sad when he can't play with them. Grown up stuff, even if Ford hated that term. Ford could understand that, at least as long as he got to spend _some_ time with his brother.

Besides, Ford likes being around Dipper and Mabel too; it's like being with Stan only double. Two friends instead of one. It's nice, though Stan is still his favorite. Mabel is so friendly and upbeat and Dipper might be smarter than even Ford, and Ford was smarter than a lot of grownups according to his teachers. They don’t let him look at certain parts of the Journals, they say there are parts that aren’t safe to read and they learned that the hard way, which Ford finds annoying but he still likes spending time with them so he doesn’t push it. For now. He wishes they could've been around when he was a kid with Stanley. It would've been nice, all four of them on adventures together all the time.

The boat they've rented is small, doesn't hold a candle to the Stan O War in Ford’s always humble opinion, but it's decent enough he supposes. It's got a gas motor on it that Ford is itching to take apart; he'd always wanted to build a motor for their boat but the parts were so expensive. He really needs to ask Stan more about their boat and why they didn't get a new one after whatever happened to the old one. It's hard to picture a future without sailing, even if he's in it currently. There's gotta be a good reason, has to be, he just can't think of it. Which is weird because Ford can think of lots of things usually. He _does_ become the greatest scientist ever according to Dipper after all. You have to be smart to do that.

The boat gets them to the island in the middle of the lake in no time thanks to the motor. Mabel is over the side in an instant but Ford stays a few extra moments to help Dipper pull the boat up on land and tie it to a nearby tree. “This is a figure eight knot, it's really secure.” he says as he goes through the practiced motions. After Stanley and him started on their boat, Ford had read every book about sailing that he could get his hands on. He'd made both of them practice tying knots for hours; they'd be out of luck if the Stan O War got untied and drifted away, after all. Ford was always better at tying the knots thanks to a bonus in his dexterity, but Stan was better at getting the knots undone. Though sometimes he did that by just breaking the knots so that was kinda cheating but it worked in a pinch. That's why they were the perfect team.

“Guys! C'mon, the cave isn't gonna wait all day for us!” Mabel is already several yards ahead, hanging from a low branch on a tree. She does that to Stan’s arm a lot, just dangling.

“Where's it gonna go?” Dipper asks with a laugh as he gives Ford’s knot a test tug. He nods, apparently satisfied with it which just adds about five layers of pride to Ford’s good mood, before gesturing for them to follow after his sister. The island is dreary, the trees blocking out a lot of the sunlight and making the ground several degrees cooler. There’s also fog that seems ever present. Ford wonders what the science behind that is; maybe the temperature drop clashing with the heat and the water? Hm. He really needed to read some updated science books.

They come to the entrance to a cave that, once inside, he can see is connected to the water from another entrance that’s blocked by one of the most amazing things Ford has ever seen. If he was itching to take apart the motor of the boat, then he was way beyond that once he sets his eyes on the giant robot monster. It looked better than anything he'd ever seen in a movie, even the new movies that had to be made with magic, or the comics he and Stan would buy once a month. The skin was ripped in places, showing solid metal plating, and wires were poking out of where the metal itself had been torn back. Ford can feel excitement like electricity buzzing under his skin as he takes Mabel’s hand after she's climbed up onto the head. She hefts him up like it's nothing and there it is. The pilot seat. The wooden chair is slightly less impressive but he is in no way less excited.

“Do you think it'll still run?” he asks as he jumps down into the seat before letting himself plop down into it. Regrets that pretty much instantly as it seems the wooden chair was not made for comfort and it feels like he'd gotten a swift boot to his behind. He shakes his head, regrets that too for the way it makes the dull throb in his skull rev to life for a moment. No time for pained butts or heads, though. He reaches for one of the many levers and gives it a pull. He puffs out his cheeks when nothing happens. Maybe there's a start button somewhere?

Dipper jumps in with him while Mabel ducks out of view. “I think the crash wrecked it pretty bad. Soos said he wanted to scavenge parts from it but he was, uh…”

“I think he said he was ‘Like totally scarred for life, little doods'.” Mabel yells from outside the cockpit, her voice going deep and with a weird accent that Ford recognizes as an impression of the odd hamster man that works for him and Stanley. Ford is pretty sure he's some sort of monster/human hybrid but the twins insist that Ford's already ran tests to disprove that. Maybe he's slacking in the science in the future. Nah, can’t be. But still, there’s _something_ up with that guy. Things to find out later.

Ford’s disappointed that they can't drive the thing but it's still impressive to see. He wishes he could've borrowed some tools from the hamster man, would've loved to see what they could've scavenged themselves. Maybe before he got turned back into an adult again he could build the boat motor he'd wanted to for the Stan O War. Then maybe he and Stanley could go sailing with the kids later. He thinks they’d all like that. Mabel said she was friends with a merman; they could track him down. He and Dipper could study monsters and Stan could hunt for treasure and fight anything that tried to attack them. Maybe when Ford was big again, he could fight too. He hopes he can.

When he gets out of the cockpit, lending a hand to pull Dipper out, Mabel is nowhere in sight but there’s the sound of metal hitting metal. They both slide down the side she'd disappeared around; Ford snorts a laugh at the high pitched sound Dipper makes when a length of pipe nearly smacks him in the face as it flies out of a rather massive hole in the side of the robo-creature.

Dipper’s face goes red and Ford quickly covers his mouth to stifle his laughter. He adjusts his glasses, moving to look inside the hole that they hadn’t seen from the other side; he has to duck as a handful of shredded wires are tossed at his face. “Watch it, Mabel!” she’s got her sleeves shoved up to her elbows as she digs through the innards, tossing stuff over her shoulder without looking back. He wants to lecture, he is _technically_ the adult here, but instead he climbs in next to her. Well, he wanted to take it apart anyway. He can be the adult another time. “What’re you looking for?”

Mabel sticks her tongue out in concentration as she digs through what looks like a mountain of cables; Ford hopes there’s no power left in them. “Can’t you smell it?” she asks, incredulous, as if Ford is missing something incredibly obvious.

Ford frowns and sniffs the air. It smells like a car engine, like oil and copper and grease. Smells hot and—wait. He leans closer to the section that Mabel is digging in and takes a deep breath through his nose. He can smell the sweet berry shampoo that his niece uses but, beyond that and the smell of the machine, there’s something else. A different kind of sweetness than her hair with a bite of spice to it. Ford’s never smelled anything like it before. “What is that?”

“Did you guys find something?” Dipper calls and when Ford looks back, he’s moving his hand over the ragged sides of the creature with a face Ford has learned to recognize as his thinking face. It’s the same face he wears when they’re looking through the Journals or he’s reading one of those mystery books he likes to read before bed.

Mabel tugs on Ford’s arm to get his attention; she gestures to a sheet of metal that’s been warped, looking like it’s been bent open and closed repeatedly. He takes her cue and gets his fingers in the crack alongside hers so they can pull together. “It smells like the tea,” she grunts as the metal starts bending, “that Mom always gets from Moondoes.”

Dipper makes a confused sound. “Chai tea?”

“Yeah!” Mabel cries out, victorious as the metal fully bends back. Ford suspects it was weakened from having been bent so many times before. The sweet, spicy smell is much stronger now. Mabel gasps when they peer inside. “Oh my god! It’s so cute!” she whisper-yells, as if to avoid waking the beast the rests inside.

Ford’s not sure about the cute part, but it is amazing. The body is covered in milky brown fur, like coffee with too much creamer in it, and small groupings of dark brown leaves that spread to the right of the double heads that are all curled up as the thing sleeps. The right head is purring, its rounded lion cub ears twitching every now and then. To the left, the head of a goat stretches from the body, little stubs of horns on top of its head; it oddly looks like a baby version of the goat that hangs around the Shack. Ford’s eyes trace the creature’s back to where a tail extends, covered in scales and curled into a spiral that ends in a snake’s head that is resting on itself.

Ford’s breath catches in his chest, excitement threatening to burst his heart. “It’s a chimera!” he hisses in the same yelling whisper that Mabel had used.

“A chimera?!” Dipper squeaks and wedges his way in with them and stands on the other side of Mabel; it’s a tight fit, shoulder to shoulder, but Ford is so beyond caring.

A chimera! A living, breathing, real chimera! Not a monster in one of Ford’s books or one of Stan’s made up creations, but a real, actual monster. This was so much cooler than a bunch of marriage starved gnomes or a buried zombie hand (though those were super cool). Ford scrambles to grab the notebook tucked in the back of Dipper’s shorts. He has to write this down!

“No.” Mabel whispers, shifting so she can stretch a hand towards the creature. “A _chaimera_.”

“Chaimera. That’s perfect!” Ford doesn’t know what Chai is or what kind of tea it makes, but if that’s what it smells like then it’s a great name. Everyone knew what a chimera is; what fun would it be to tell the world about something it already knew? Ford writes the name at the top of the paper then rapidly starts sketching the thing.

Mabel squeaks happily when her hand touches the lion head, the chaimera making a quiet ‘mrrrp’ sound before purring louder as she scratches behind its ear. “Dipper, it makes the kitty start up sound!”

“It’s very small; must be a baby.” Dipper pulls a small camera out of his bag and starts snapping pictures. “I wonder how it got in here. The side looks like it was torn open but this one is too small to do that.”

The smell is getting stronger, overpowering the smell of the machine the longer they stay. Ford is able to get the sketch finished and has added a few shorthand notes when his eyes start to sting. He rubs at them under his glasses, “Mabel, maybe stop petting it. I think it’s putting off more of that smell.” The smell certainly isn’t helping his headache which seems to be building back to life the more he inhales it.

“But he loves me!” she protests, her upper half of her body mostly inside the little compartment. “Maybe he was abandoned. Ooh, can we take him home? I can be his new mommy! Waddles would love a brother!”

Ford wants to argue further, both about the smell and the fact that the thing would likely eat the fat pig Mabel loves so much, but that’s when he feels a puff of hot, moist air on the back of his head, ruffling his hair. He turns and feels his breath catch once more, though less out of excitement this time. He drops his pen and instantly grabs Dipper’s arm. His nephew turns and Ford is pretty sure they swallow in unison.

It’s big, much bigger than any lion Ford has ever seen in a book. The lion head is huffing harder than the goat; it doesn’t have a big mane but its fangs are large and glistening. The edges of both mouths have brown froth that’s only a few shades lighter than the fur. Each breath is like a blast of spices and sweetness to the face that has Ford’s eyes watering.

“Uh, Mabel?” Dipper squeaks and both he and Ford grab ahold of the back of her sweater to pull her out. “I think it already has a mommy.”

“What? What are you—oh?” Mabel instantly grabs each of their hands as soon as she is facing the adult chaimera. She swallows before grinning a big, metal-filled smile. “Maybe it’s a friendly monster? Hey! You have the cutest little baby ever! Can we be friends?”

The answer to that, apparently, is a giant roar that has all three of them stumbling back.

Why hadn’t they brought Stan? Ohh this was a bad idea; they were going to be in so much trouble. Ford has so many regrets. He moves to tuck the notebook down the front of his sweater. “If I die, please let them publish all my works.” He whispers to himself, trying to remember the last time he went to Temple. His ma would be so disappointed in him if he died without having recently gone.

Dipper and Mabel lock up beside him; Ford looks over when Mabel drops Ford’s hand. “Now!” Dipper yells; Mabel drops his hand too, both her hands disappearing into her sleeves for a second then she’s throwing something from both hands towards each head.

“Eat sparkles, you magnificent creature with adorable babies!” she screams; it’s glitter, she just threw glitter at a monster. Ford is stunned. More so because it seems to _work_ ; the lion head roars angrily while the goat head screams, both sets of heads squeezing their eyes shut as it stumbles back.

“Left/right hook!” they yell together, each slamming a fist into one of the heads.

His niece and nephew are _so cool_.

They scramble to get out of the beast and run for the exit. Ford screams when the snake tail, neck flared out, lashes for them as they run past the thing. Acting on instinct, he mirrors his niblings and slams his fist into it as the run past.

“Guys, I just punched a snake!” he yells after them once they’re out of the cave. Behind them, the ground itself seems to shake with the force of the beast’s roar. Terror bubbles up in the form of laughter. Oh god, where’s the boat?

“Pines Pawnch!” Mabel yells, jumping over a log.

Dipper reaches the boat first and is getting the knot untied when Mabel jumps into it, running to be ready to start the motor. Ford braces against the back of the boat; he waits for the knot to be undone to start pushing it back into the water with Dipper’s help. Water fills his shoes, soaks his socks, and wets the edges his borrowed shorts, but the boat is in the water before Dipper and him heft themselves into the boat.

Ford helps Dipper start paddling with the oars while Mabel pulls the cable to start the motor. One pull, nothing. A roar shakes the leaves on the trees. Second pull, nothing. The chaimera bursts through the treeline and skids to a stop at the waterline. It starts to step into the water as Mabel pulls for a third time; Ford feels something unclench inside him as the motor lets out its own roar and sends up a spray of cold water. The boat gives a lurch that nearly sends him from his seat; Dipper’s hand slaps against his chest to keep him from falling, though his oar does fall from his hand and hits the water with a splash. Ford watches where it floats as they quickly widen the distance between both it and the chaimera and thinks that Stan might be mad that he has to pay for that now.

“That was so cool!” Mabel yells and Ford is getting better, he doesn’t yelp and barely flinches when she tackles both him and Dipper with a hug, sending all three of them to the floor and rocking the boat bad enough for water to splash in. “Attack glitter twin punch was a success! And Ford punched a snake! And I got to pet a tea cat-goat!”

Ford sits up best he can with Mabel mostly on top of him and shoves his glasses back up his nose. “Technically it was a lion, not a cat.” He corrects but he still grins at her.

Dipper shoves her off but Ford can see he’s grinning too. “Wait till Soos hears about this! I wonder if that thing was there when we came to the island last time? Ooh, maybe McGucket has seen it before? Great Uncle Ford, can I see your notes? I want to add to them. Mabel, can you take the boat around the island a few times? Maybe we can spot it safely from a distance.” Dipper is talking a mile a minute and, once Ford has given him the notebook, starts writing just as fast as he talks. “I wonder if Stan knows anything about this.

Ford settles next to Dipper, adding in his own observations while they slowly circle the island. The chaimera can be seen on the shore, its snake tail lashing whenever it catches sight of them, but doesn’t seem like it is going to make the journey out that far to get to them. It's warm in the sun, comfortable especially with the way the boat rocks gently while the other kids talk excitedly to one another and at him. He wishes he could tell his Stanley all about this, not Old Stanley but the one that was his age; he probably wouldn't believe him, but he'd at least listen.

He likes his niece and nephew a lot, more so with every new thing they see and do together. He hopes they visit every summer, that Stanley and him get to spend as much time as possible with them. Maybe Mabel has scrapbooks with pictures of previous summers he could look at later. Other monsters they’ve discovered, other adventures. It wasn’t sailing the world on the adventure of a lifetime, but it wasn’t bad. Might even be a little better, all things considered.

The thoughts bring a smile to his face as he lets his eyes close, the rocking of the boat and the warmth of the sun making him feel extra sleepy. His head hurts less as he relaxes in his seat. He just needs to relax a little; the other kids will wake him up once they get to shore and Stanley comes to pick them up. Just a quick nap, that's all he needs. He’s been so tired lately; all of a sudden it feels like he hasn’t slept in a thousand years. He can feel the world fading away around him, the voices of his family fading to a muffled peace. Just a quick nap.

Then, with the feeling of tall grass all around him, he hears a voice.

“ ** _WELL WELL WELL WELL. LOOK WHAT WE'VE GOT HERE_**.”

Ford turns and sees a figure floating above him. It’s a…glowing triangle with one eye? It looks vaguely familiar but Ford can’t place where he’s seen it before. He looks around; he’s in a wide open field, grass that goes up to his hips. His smile returns when he sees their old swing set in the distance and then—oh! It’s the Stan O War! All the colors are muted and both look more rundown then he remembers them, but it’s still a comfort that they’re her. He looks back up at the triangle. “Who are you?”

The triangle has no mouth, but Ford can feel it smile back at him. It feels like seeing an old friend again, but Ford has never had an old friend before. He’s met this thing before, he’s sure, but doesn’t know where or when. A pair of thin black arms and legs extends from the thing, the right hand holding a cane that it leans on despite still floating in the air. Like Stanley when he greets a group of tourists. “ ** _I’M YOUR BEST FRIEND, KID._** ” It speaks, its voice echoing all around them, familiar and alien at the same time. “ ** _THE NAME’S BILL CIPHER_**.” It sticks out a hand.

Ford nods; he knows that name. He smiles and takes the offered hand. “Stanford Pines.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sooooooo sorry this chapter took so long! We finished moving this month and my life has been so busy and hectic. But! I'm hoping I can get back into the groove of regularly updating, especially since I plan on participating in Maybel this year. Get my words a-flowin' again.
> 
> But yes, I hope you guys enjoyed this one. The chaimera won out over the Kelptaur (a kelpie/centaur) and the Land Shark. And, for those of you that were wondering when Bill would show up cause I am a sucker for that triangle...there we go.


	5. Why Won't You Tell Me?

His vision blurs again as he stares at the page in front of him and it takes him a moment to realize it's not just another part of the thing that just makes no sense to him. With a groan, he rubs at his eyes under the pair of glasses he'd finally given into wearing and blinked until the words became somewhat readable. He turns to the notebook where he had started keeping his makeshift cipher to help him translate, finger trailing over the symbols to find the match. Square with a squiggle, no not that one, the _other_ square with a squiggle. Ugh.

Why couldn't Ford have written the damn thing in English? Or Spanish, Stan could read that as well as English. Hell, he'd have settled for Russian, he could at least stumble his way through that somewhat passably thanks to Yuri. But this weird alien, made up language? It's taken the better part of the last five years to get just a mostly helpful cipher figured out. There were usually some things that were wrong but Stan could usually figure it out. Mostly. Passably.

He chances a look at his watch and can't suppress another groan at the time it shows. Four hours until opening, five if Stan wanted to say screw it to the old people that came first thing. But they were the ones quickest to buy souvenirs for grandkids that didn't give a shit. Extra sleep versus money. As if that was really a choice at this point in his life. He could only steal so many parts and it wasn’t like he could steal Ford’s mortgage payments. Then again, maybe if he broke into the bank he could…no, too much attention.

He's so _tired_. Seasonal rush of tourists have been running him ragged; he really needed to get a way to run the forest tours while not on his feet. And then the portal had been keeping him up later and later. He'd hoped once he'd gotten the panels to work again he could flip the switch but the power wasn't communicating somewhere; he was lucky to get the portal to spark. He'd blown out the power three times in as many weeks trying to figure out where the disconnect was. Maybe it was time to steal a few more books on electrical engineering and skim them until they made sense? He needs to find a new supply of copper wiring too. Maybe the streetlights downtown had been repaired so he could steal them again.

A yawn effectively shuts down his thought process, brain function shutting down and rebooting. Holy Moses he is tired.

He gives a regretful look back to the portal that looms in the other room. He needs to get _some_ sleep if he's going to be able to work. When he glances back at the book, the words start to blur again, ink running together when his eyes move over the page; he has a feeling that he's not gonna get much more work done tonight anyway. He looks back up at the portal again and for a second swears he sees it glowing again with an old silhouette in it. Sleep deprivation and guilt were never friends to him though they had always found kin in each other.

“Tomorrow, Sixer. I promise. I can feel it, I'm almost there.” He repeats the same line he's said almost every night for the last five years, puts the same confidence into his grin that he does when he tells the cops he had nothing to do with whatever they're asking. He closes the Journal, placing his hand over the one on the cover to see the extra finger stick out of an otherwise perfect match. “High six.” He mutters under his breath, trying to will himself to find comfort in the gesture. It never works but maybe someday it will.

Tomorrow he'll get it. It'll be fixed and Ford will be back and Stan can apologize properly. Tomorrow. Everything will make sense again after he gets some sleep.

**_“YOU REALLY BELIEVE THAT, HUH?”_ **

_Tap tap tap_

Stan jolts awake, hands slapping down on the middle console and the door as he searches around. Mabel's face is pressed against the driver side window that's slightly cracked due to the heat. Right. He was picking the kids up from the lake. Stan shakes his head to get the remnants of the dream out of his mind and to get his brain back into the present before rolls the window down the rest of the way. She's got the boys behind her; all of them are red everywhere their skin shows. Probably should've given them sunscreen. Oh well.

He gives Dipper’s sun-reddened cheek a pinch when the boy steps up to the driver side door just to laugh when the boy swats him away. It brings a rush of fond memories to the surface; he almost swears he can smell salt mixed with the telltale scent of sun touched skin. “You kids are going to be peeling like little monsters in a few days.” he feels the need to point out as the three of them climb into the backseat.

Mabel’s amazed sounding “Cool!” mixes with Dipper’s disgusted groan and Stan shares a laugh with the girl. He can see Ford slumping against the door, a tired look on his face. Apparently Stan wasn't the only one that had needed a nap.

“Too much excitement for you, huh, Sixer?” he teases naturally though the bags under his brother’s eyes are a little concerning. Did he have those this morning? Stan can’t remember; he had been too focused on what he was going to say to McGucket to pay much attention to the kids.

This reminds him of what he’s learned. It eats time. The thing eats time. How the hell were they supposed to fix that? Stan didn't doubt that they _could_ , he'd pulled Ford from another dimension for heaven's sake; there wasn’t much he couldn’t believe they could get done. But the how was a little mind boggling. Maybe the kids would have some ideas once they could sit down and think everything through together. They were both smarter than Stan, could probably see something he couldn't.

He'd never admit it to anyone, but he wishes he could talk to the older version of Ford about this. Heck, if the positions were reversed, Ford probably would've had a fix before nightfall on the first day. If he'd cared enough to do so. Probably would've done it just to prove he could. Been all smug about it and the kids would've thought he was so cool. Jackass.

The thoughts threaten to spiral him into a bad mood but he tries to shove it down. His issues with his brother are well documented at this point but they're a problem for another day. Stan's a big fan of why do today when it can be done tomorrow, or better yet when you can con someone else into doing it for you? Now, wouldn’t that be the greatest con, getting someone else to deal with his emotional baggage for him. Heh.

"We saw a chaimera, Grunkle Stan!” Mabel yells, hanging halfway over the passenger seat. She flails her arms as they pull out of the parking area to start the journey back to the Shack. “It was super cute! But then its mama came and we had to punch it!”

Stan laughs at that, “What did I tell you kids? Few things in this world can’t be solved with a good punch.” he angles the mirror so he can see them all and feels his good mood dip when he spots Ford asleep against the door. Running around for a few hours in the sun shouldn’t have him so tired. Hell, the past few days have just reminded him why their father had such a strict bedtime for them as kids. “What’s up with him?”

Mabel settles back into the seat and reaches under the passenger seat to grab her scrapbook she had apparently stashed there. Stan really needs to teach her how to pickpocket; girl was shockingly sneaky for a bundle of loud sparkles. “He fell asleep on the boat on the way back.”

Dipper nods. “I think his head hurts. He's been wincing and rubbing his temples when he thinks we're not looking.”

“Just like you do!” Mabel grins and moves her hand in a waving motion with her fingers spread. “Twins!” she began scribbling on a page of her scrapbook. “He punched a snake though so I think he's okay.”

Stan’s thoughts split into two directions at that. First that a snake was much less impressive than a dinosaur as far as punching reptiles was concerned. Second is worry because maybe he shouldn't be letting the kids go off on adventures that might be dangerous. He knows that they can handle themselves, of course, they're all very tough and smart, but he feels a resurgence of that old fear bubbling up inside him. The fear that kept him lying for the last thirty years but especially this summer. The fear that had him checking on the kids randomly at night sometimes to just ease his nerves that they were still there. The fear that had him angling the mirror to see Ford again, frowning at the wrinkle in his brow as his mini twin slept.

Ford is still asleep by the time they arrive back at the Shack as the sun is setting and barely makes a fuss when Stan picks him out of the seat. The kids run into the house ahead of them while Stan puts him in his room. While he’s there, maybe he checks his brother over for snake bites. And maybe after he’s relieved to see that his brother was bite free, he takes the time to take off his brother’s shoes and cover him with a blanket. Ford’s sleeping so he can never tell anyone and Stan will never admit to it.

The air in the hall is filled with the delicious scent of chocolate that Stan is more than happy to follow. It leads him to the kitchen. He can’t help a smile at the sight of Mabel standing on a chair in front of the stove, stirring a pot with an overly large spoon. Dipper is putting four coffee mugs of the table that already has the last bag of marshmallows in that Mabel hasn’t devoured yet on it. This is exactly what he had in mind when he said the kids were smarter than him.

Stan grabs one of the small jars of glitter from the cabinet and sets it next to the mug with the pink, glittery M painted on it. “Scooch over, sweetheart.” he bumps Mabel with his hip and takes the spoon from her. “Kid, drop a handful of those in my cup before your sister eats all of them.” he calls to Dipper, pointing to the bag.

“Ha, like that would stop me.” Mabel laughs as she jumps down from the chair and hurries over to the table.

The table is spattered with drops and drips of spilled chocolate by the time all their three cups have been filled, thanks mostly to Stan not having the best of aim. Oh well, he’d just ask Soos to clean the kitchen tomorrow; boy was always happy to do whatever Stan asked of him. Stan’s happy to see he got a good helping of the marshmallows before Mabel had attacked the bag. Her cup is to the brim of overflowing, though Dipper’s not much better, just less glitter. If there’s anything their family shared, it was a sweet tooth. That and horrifically bad vision, as the kids were no doubt going to learn in a few years.

Stan takes a long drink, savoring the thick, sweet taste. It was nice to just sit with the kids, a taste of normal in the mess that their lives had been. Man, maybe they should have a movie night soon. Some bad horror movies at 3 am sounded like a great idea. Ford liked even the bad movies; it was funny to see how amazed his brother was over even the worst effects. Sometimes Stan forgot how much things had changed since he was a kid.

“So I think we need to look through Journal 2 again and do a sweep of the forest, see if we can’t find the thing that bit Great Uncle Ford.” Dipper suggests after a few minutes. He shifts in his seat so he can, apparently, pull a map out of his pocket and unfold it on the table. He’s got various sections marked with red marker. “If we can’t find out what it was, maybe we can just find it again and capture it.”

Stan sighs and moves to pull out the page that McGucket had printed out for him. Well, the normalcy was nice while it lasted. Back to his full time job of trying to save Ford. “This is what it is. It eats time.”

Dipper snatches it instantly and maybe Stan has a little bit of pride in the way the boy lights up when it comes to learning something. He’s never really understood the appeal of studying or learning a bunch of stuff you were probably never going to use, but it was nice to see how happy it made people like Dipper or Soos. Then again, maybe if he’d actually paid attention in school it wouldn’t have taken him thirty years to fix the Portal.

Dipper’s nose wrinkles as he reads over the page. “It eats time?” there’s a pen in his hand though where it came from Stan has no idea. “Something in its venom…”

“Like a snake?” Mabel suggests while she shakes a good helping of glitter over her cup and stirring it with a spoon. “Don’t they make, like, anti-venom? Or maybe Blenjamin can help. We could, like, challenge him to deadly laser tag again. Get another time wish!” she mimes firing a gun, complete with laser sound effects. “Glarg-far or whatever! If it can do infinite pizza, it could probably do, like, re-old man-ening.”

“I feel like that would be a grievous abuse of our truce with him.” Dipper frowns.

Stan shrugs, “I’m always for grievously abusing something for personal gain. I ever tell you guys about the old lady that helped me smuggle rare kittens with a hyper cuteness gene? Convinced her we were legally getting them to a cat charity. Pretty solid scam for like six months until the cops raided her garage.” he lets out a fond sigh. He’d made a lot of money off that. But cat scams were always high risk; so many scratches. Now it was all about puppies.

Dipper rolls his eyes but Stan can see the smile on his face. “Still. I think Mabel might have a good idea with the anti-venom.”

“All my ideas are good!” she says with glitter smeared across both cheeks.

“Right. Sure.” another eye roll. “But yeah. Maybe if we catch the thing we could like...study it’s venom? See if there’s an antidote. Maybe Ford could help him.”

Mabel reaches over to pull the bag of marshmallows closer to herself. “Wouldn’t that mean letting him in one of the labs? I thought we were, you know, not letting him see that stuff cause of all the questions. You know with the whole being a crazy scientist and the stuff with the portal and how him and Stan are idiots.”

Stan lets out a mildly offended grunt but doesn’t really argue. At least she’s also calling Ford stupid.

“Maybe we should tell him about...what happened?” Dipper winces as he says it, plunking an extra marshmallow into his cup and giving it a stir. “I mean, keeping secrets doesn’t really seem to help us accomplish much. And it’s getting really hard to keep coming up with reasons why he can’t look at certain parts of the Journals. If he can go to the lab with me, maybe we could figure something out?”

Stan glares into his cup, poking a floating marshmallow down into the cocoa until the burning liquid stings his skin. “Listen, I’m not exactly his biggest fan, but the kid doesn’t deserve to know about what a mess our future is.” Stan doesn’t want to have that conversation, not again. And maybe he doesn’t want to lose Ford again any sooner than he has to.

“But maybe Ford will remember all this when he’s grown again and he won’t be as mad.” Mabel pipes up, cheerful as ever with a thick, glittery chocolate mustache. She grabs another handful of marshmallows from the bag and shoves them into her mouth. “An’ den you cah hug eh oht!” her cheeks puff out like a squirrel.

Stan shakes his head, “Pumpkin, there’s a bigger chance of me giving all my money to a ‘charitable cause’” he does the air quotations for emphasis, “than of Ford and me making up. I tried for thirty years to make things up to him; a week as a runt isn’t going to change that. Once he’s back to normal, he’ll remember how much he hates me and things will be status quo again.”

There’s the sound of rubber squeaking on the hardwood floor and then a second later, the back door is slamming in the doorframe. Stan is on his feet in a heartbeat and at the window with enough time to see Ford running towards the woods. He swears under his breath and chases after his brother. He nearly stumbles down the stairs that lead down from the back porch. “Stanford! Get back here!” he yells after him, grabbing the broken railing to catch himself. His chest constricts when Ford turns to glare at him; why could he still see so much of his adult face in that expression, even with all the baby fat? Stan tries to shove that down, crush it down to fuel for his grin. “Come on, Sixer, come back inside.”

“I heard what you were saying, Stanley!” Ford jabs a finger in the direction of the house. There’s a shake to his whole body as he steps back, moving into the darkness of the yard. “You said I hate you!”

Stan takes a step forward, moving slow like he would if it was an injured animal and not his own brother. “You just heard the wrong part. C’mon, get back inside.”

Ford shakes his head. “No, he said we...he said I didn’t--” he stamps his foot before meeting Stan’s eyes again. Stan is caught off guard by the heat in his stare. “What happened to the Stan o War? Why don’t we have it? Why aren’t we sailing, Stanley? Tell me!”

Frustration is building inside of him; this isn’t the time for this. “It--that’s complicated, Stanford. Trust me, it doesn’t matter, just--”

“It matters to me!” he slaps a hand to his chest, voice raising, taking another step back. “I want to know! I deserve to know! It was our dream and you won’t tell me what happened to it! You all keep _lying_ to me! It’s not fair! What happened?!”

Stan can feel his eye twitching and a throbbing starting in his temple. “Ford, this isn’t the time to talk about this. Come back inside and we’ll--”

“Why? Why is this not the time?!” Ford’s voice raises to a full blown yell, his fists at his sides. “Tell me why you won’t tell me!”

“Because I said so and I'm the adult, Stanford!” he starts marching towards him, longer strides getting him closer faster than Ford can stumble backwards. “Now stop being childish and get back inside!”

“Just because you look like Dad doesn't mean you have to act like him!” the words are a slap; Ford instantly covers his mouth with both hands like he had just swore as Stan freezes in his place. “I--I didn’t mean that. I mean, I just...I deserve to know. I just want to know why.”

A bitter bark of a laugh escapes Stan before he can even process it. The words echo in his head, catching on the walls to ignite a spark that lights the fuel he’d shoved down. “You want to know what happened?” he sweeps his hands out in front of him, gesturing to the space that was still between them. “I cut the rope and let it drift out to sea!”

Ford had destroyed their dream when he’d replaced it with one that was entirely his own, but Stan had physically destroyed it. That was what he was good at. He’d driven to the beach and cut the rope with the salt air stinging his eyes because like hell would he let Ford have it. Ford hadn’t wanted their stupid childish dream, hadn’t wanted _Stan_ , so he wasn’t going to get the satisfaction of being the one to bid the boat a goodbye. He’d have burned it if he’d had the gas and matches.

Ford’s arms go slack at his sides, all the anger and indignation melting away into a stunned expression. “You...you cut the rope?” his voice shakes with the kind of emotion only a kid can show; like a nerve rubbed raw and left exposed to the world. “ _Why_? Why would you _do that_?!” his voice catches on a hitched breath. “Why?”

The fire begins to die as quick as it flared, leaving Stan with the old feeling of being empty and cold. “Because things don’t work out, Sixer. It’s…” he runs a hand through his hair and looks away. “Because it’s not us against the world. Because life isn’t what we planned it to be. It’s not what either of us wanted, but it’s the way life is.”

“You said I hated you.” Ford shakes his head and when Stan looks at him again, he can see the wet streaks catching the light on his cheeks. “Do you hate me?”

“What? God, Ford, no.” he moves in front of his brother, dropping to one knee to grab his shoulders. “Sixer, I could never hate you.” Not this Ford, and not the older one either, really. Everything he’s ever done has been for their family. So much work, so many sleepless nights and fighting to get Ford back. It didn’t go the way he wanted, no part of Stan’s life did but especially where his brother was concerned. But he didn’t hate him. Could never hate him. And as pathetic as it was, Stan knows that if Ford were to ask for his help again, just like thirty years ago, Stan would come running. “Never.”

Ford drops his chin to his chest and his shoulders are shaking under Stan’s hands. “But I can hate you. That’s who I become. He was right.”

_Pines men don't cry._ He hears the words of their father in his head but he still has enough shame from Ford's comparison to keep them from falling from his tongue. He doesn't want to be that man; he is okay being lots of different people, many of them ones he could never be proud of, but not him. He never wants to be him. Instead, Stan gives his shoulders a squeeze, feeling uneasy with the use of the pronoun game. “Who was right, Ford?” he gives him a little shake in hopes of getting his brother to look at him. “Sixer, who have you been talking to?”

“I’m going to fix this. I’m not going to let myself be that. I'm not going to let me ruin everything.” Ford looks up with a determined look on his face. Stan nearly falls back when he lunges forward, his arms wrapped tight around Stan’s neck for a moment. “I'm going to make it alright again, Lee. I promise.” Before Stan has a chance to react, though, he’s pulling back and taking off towards the woods again.

“Sixer! Wait!” Stan tries to snatch him but he’s too quick. “Stanford! Stanford come back!” by the time he’s back on his feet, Ford has broken through the treeline. In the dark, there’s no sight of him once Stan reaches the trees. He cups his hands around his mouth. “Stanford! Stanford!”

His voice echoes through the trees but the only response he gets is the sounds of animals scattering. For the fourth time in his life, his brother has disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *jazz hands* ta-da?


	6. Why Won't You Lie To Me?

The field stretches as far as Ford can see though it seems to be empty aside from the swing set, the boat, and this giant machine that looks very far away. Ford doesn't like looking at it, feels something twist and churn in his stomach whenever he lets his eyes linger on it. He makes his way to the Stan o War instead. It's so broken; it'll take them forever to fix it. Oh well, it'll be worth it.

“ ** _NEVER UNDERSTOOD THE APPEAL TO THIS THING._** ” his new/old friend says, appearing on top of the cracked head of it.

“It's the greatest thing in the world.” Ford explains as he finds a section with a hole in the hull the right size to use as a foothold so he can climb up it. It takes a few tries but eventually he hauls himself up. “Stanley and I are gonna sail the world one day on it.” he stamps his foot a few times when he boards it, testing the wood. When they first found the boat, Stanley had fractured his wrist when he fell through a section of wood that was more rot than anything and Ford didn't want to repeat that.

Bill laughs at that and his laugh makes Ford’s gut twist the same way the machine in the distance does. “ ** _WOW, YOU REALLY DID LIKE HIM, DIDN'T YOU? THAT'S AS CUTE AS IT IS SAD._** ”

Ford frowns, “Stanley’s my best friend.” he moves around the top of the boat, running a hand along the railing. Something in him aches as he looks over their treasure, like he's got a bruise forming in his gut. He doesn't like it. “You said you were my best friend but that's Stanley.”

Once more he can't see it but he can _feel_ Bill grinning at him and it makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He jumps as a cold feeling starts traveling up from his feet to his legs and when he looks down, he can see rising black water. It clings to his skin when he tries to climb up on the railing to escape it but it keeps going. Once it covers the railing, Ford feels it disappear, replaced by flat, solid ground beneath his sneakers. He looks to Bill but the triangle is gone along with the rest of the boat.

The water stops at his hips, enveloping him in a cold darkness so thick he can't see his shorts through it. He cups his hands to scoop some up, watching in amazement as the water obscures his palms before trickling between his fingers.

“Remember our plans to sail around the world on a boat?” a deep voice speaks from behind him and Ford turns to see the machine he'd avoided looking at before, the face of it showing a flickering picture like a movie projection. In it he can see two men; it takes him a second to recognize Stanley and then it was easy to see himself in the other man. They're younger than Old Stanley but still older than Ford can remember being.

Wow, they were really dirty. And they looked so _tired_.

“Take this book, get on a boat, and sail as far away as you can. To the edge of the earth!” he's turning his back on Stan; the older him doesn't see the way Stan's face shifts from a smile to a glare in a heartbeat. “Bury it where no one can find it!” Ford tries to move closer to the machine but his steps feel slow and heavy. It feels like the water is holding him in place.

“That's it? You finally want to see me after ten years and it's to tell me to get as far away from you as possible?!” Stan's angry and Ford feels it like a lash to his chest.

The older Ford never replies as the movie changes and there's Old Stanley, looking proud with his arms thrown wide. “Finally! After all these long years of waiting, you're actually here! Brother!”

His smile is destroyed when another man—him, Ford realizes with horror— slams a fist against his cheek. “You really think I'm going to thank you after what you did thirty years ago?!”

The water is rising, the cold reaching his stomach that he sucks in on instinct and he lifts his arms to keep them out of the water.

The screen goes blank, leaving just the faintly glowing machine. Ten years, thirty years? Ford can feel something forming in his gut, a solid stone that burns hotter with each passing second. Something inside him knows this, has seen this before, and doesn't want to see it again.

“You left me behind, you jerk! It was supposed to be us forever! You ruined my life!” he can hear Old Stanley's voice but there's no picture on the screen this time. Ford turns in the water but there's only the rising water as far as he can see.

“You ruined your own life!” his older voice yells.

Ford smells burning meat as Old Stanley's voice screams in agony. He looks around again but there's still nothing; just the water and the machine. He has to lift his chin and go on his toes to keep his face above the surface. The burning stone in his gut grows, sinking heavy enough to make Ford feel queasy as that horrid smell continues to fill the air. “Stanley!” he yells, upset at the way his voice shakes. He wants his brother. This is just a dream, a bad dream. He just needs to wake up. “Stanley!”

“ ** _HE'S NOT COMING THIS TIME, SIXER. WHY WOULD HE AFTER EVERYTHING YOU'VE DONE?_** ” Ford sucks in a breath as the water swallows him, clenching his eyes shut. The ground disappears beneath his feet and he tries to kick up. All around him an echoing laugh sounds though it's not distorted by the water. “ ** _ALWAYS THE DRAMA QUEEN, SIXER._** ” Ford forces his eyes open and there's Bill, glowing in the darkness of the water. He can still feel that invisible smile, mocking and distant at the same time. “ ** _BUT YOU CAN STILL FIX THINGS._** ”

The center of Bill lights up just like the machine had, showing the vending machine in the Shack's gift shop with specific buttons pressed. Then it was a long corridor and doors then, floating in the middle, a weird snowglobe looking object filled with dark swirling energy.

The stone in his gut grows sharp at the sight of it and he sucks in a gasp without thinking. The cold dives inside him, coiling in his insides, choking him though he can still breath. He tries to shove Bill away and is left feeling his palms burn where they’d touched the triangle. He looks at them then around as the world they're in starts to flicker, weird symbols cutting through the darkness of the water. “You're lying.” He wills it to be true, to erase the sounds of Stanley’s scream from his memory. To erase the fighting he's heard.

“ ** _ASK ABOUT THE BOAT, SIXER._** ” His form begins to flicker like the rest of the world, flashing in and out of view. “ ** _THEN ONCE YOU BELIEVE ME, BRING THE RIFT DEEP INTO THE WOODS AND I CAN FIX THINGS. I'LL GIVE YOUR DREAM BACK TO YOU._** ”

Ford awakes with a stir to the feeling of being carried and the now familiar musty smell of his brother. He considers wriggling out of his hold, a protest about not being a child on his tongue, but instead he just lets his head rest on Stanley’s shoulder. Stanley didn't hate him; they were best friends no matter what. He smiles sleepily as he's put in his bed and feels Stan checking his arms and legs with light hands as if not to wake him. Ford makes sure to keep his eyes closed during the check because he knows Stan will get embarrassed if he's caught being nice. It makes him think of all the times he'd had a fever as a kid and woken up to Stan feeling his forehead or putting a glass of water next to the bed, having given Ford the bottom bunk until he got better.

Bill was a liar; there's no way him and Stan would ever break apart. They were a team. Kings of Glass Shard Beach. Kings of Gravity Falls. They were Pines. They were brothers but they were best friends. His ma told him to look out for Stanley, to be the responsible big brother as Shermie would tease, but Ford had known that Stanley didn’t need anyone to look out for him.

_ASK ABOUT THE BOAT, SIXER._

Stanley said that was complicated, that it just didn't work out. Ford didn't like that answer but Stanley wouldn’t lie to him. Well, not big lies, just little ones like seeing a monster that wasn't there or about not eating Ford's last bag of jellybeans or claiming he didn't need his glasses. They were an unbreakable team, just like Dipper and Mabel. Ford trusts his brother above everything and everyone.

_I'LL GIVE YOUR DREAM BACK TO YOU_

The hallway smells like amazing chocolate when he steps out of the room; he really wants to go to the source of it where he can hear his family laughing. But instead he makes his way to the gift shop. He's just going to check to see if the rift thing was actually there and then he'd tell his family about the dream. If it wasn’t just a bad dream, then he’d tell them all about it. He knows Bill was lying about Stanley, it was just a bad dream, he just has to…check. His curiosity is too strong and there's a wriggling feeling that if he told them, they wouldn't let him check. Like with the journals.

Or with the boat.

Ford punches the buttons in by memory and has to suppress a squeal when the machine moves with a click. Secret passageway! So cool! Also means that part of the dream was correct… He opens it just enough to slip in and begins making his way down the stairs. Maybe it’s just one of the things that he remembers without knowing how! Yeah, that’s it.

At the bottom of a long, long elevator shaft he finds a small room that opens up into a massive one that's littered with broken panels and shredded cables. The feeling from the dream, the twisting churn of his stomach hits him again. He touches his hand to the side of a console, brushing his fingers over where the cold metal is raised to form a symbol that he recognizes at the same time he knows he's never seen it before. His nose stings as he looks at it and has to clamp his hands over his ears, the sound of Stan screaming filing his head, an apology caught in his throat.

“A bad dream, a bad dream.” He mutters to himself, willing himself to believe it. He forces himself away from the console and the smell of burnt meat. He just wanted to find the rift. If he can find it then he'll tell everyone about the dream. If it’s not there then he doesn’t need to say anything. It’ll all just be a bad dream that doesn’t matter and they’ll go back to trying to make Ford grow up again.

He does find it though, hidden in a cabinet and wrapped in a cloth. He unwraps it to stare at the swirling magic inside. It looks like a galaxy is trapped within the cracked glass, like if you looked close enough you'd find the planets hidden within it. Ford can feel power radiating from it, can feel something great and terrible inside it. A part of him wants to smash it while another wants to lock it away forever. Quickly he rewraps it and slips it into his pocket before he does something he’ll regret. Okay, so not just a bad dream but he has proof that something is happening. They can't refuse to tell him stuff if he has evidence.

The smell has died down a bit by the time he is outside the kitchen but there's still the warm smell of chocolate that has his mouth watering and his stomach grumbling. He's thinking about having a big cup of the hot chocolate when he hears Stan speak, the words freezing him right outside the kitchen. “Listen, I’m not exactly his biggest fan, but the kid doesn’t deserve to know about what a mess our future is.”

“But maybe Ford will remember all this when he’s grown again and he won’t be as mad.” That's Mabel, smacking her lips with a satisfied sigh. There’s the sound of wrinkling plastic and then, “An’ den you cah hug eh oht!”

What was Ford supposed to be mad about?

_“You finally want to see me again after ten years and it's to tell me to get as far away from you as possible?”_

Stan's voice sounds so _bitter_ when he responds, “Kid, there’s a bigger chance of me giving all my money to a ‘charitable cause’ than of Ford and me making up. I tried for thirty years to make things up to him; a week as a runt isn’t going to change that. Once he’s back to normal, he’ll remember how much he hates me and things will be status quo again.”

The cold, black water is coiling inside him again, crawling back up his throat to choke him. He hated Stan? What Bill said was true. They weren't a team. Is that why Bill said Stan wouldn’t come save him? What had Ford done? Ford can't imagine what Stan could so to make Ford hate him; they'd never fought to the point that Ford wanted Stan to go away. Maybe they sometimes slept in different rooms but it was never for more than a night or two.

_I'LL GIVE YOUR DREAM BACK TO YOU_

He touches the rift in his pocket and makes his decision. It twists his insides to think about it but Bill had told him the truth. Bill knew what had happened between them. If he knew how to fix it then…Bill knew who he was, what he was. Maybe he really knew how to fix things. He nods. Stan would do the same for him, he’s sure. His sneakers squeak against the floor as he runs towards the backdoor. He's going to fix it.

He can hear Old Stanley yelling, “Stanford! Get back here!” he looks out of breath, gripping the railing when Ford turns to glare at him. Stan grins like nothing is wrong. “Come on, Sixer, come back inside.”

“I heard what you were saying, Stanley!” Ford jabs a finger in the direction of the house and he hates the way his hand is shaking. He stumbles back towards the trees. “You said I hate you!”

_You said I ruined your life. You said it was supposed to be us forever but it’s not._

Stan takes a step forward, moving slow like he was afraid of spooking Ford or something. “You just heard the wrong part. C’mon, get back inside.”

Ford shakes his head. Stan's _lying_ again, how had Ford not seen it before? He was so _stupid_. “No, he said we...he said I didn’t—” he stamps his foot before meeting Stan’s eyes again. He remembers what Bill told him to ask, the question that has burned him since he learned he was seeing his own future. “What happened to the Stan o War? Why don’t we have it? Why aren’t we sailing, Stanley? Tell me!”

Ford can see Stan’s cheek twitching and his voice stumbles, “It—that’s complicated, Stanford. Trust me, it doesn’t matter, just—”

“It matters to me!” he slaps his hand to his chest, voice raising, taking another step back. His eyes burn and his vision starts to blur. “I want to know! I deserve to know! It was our dream and you won’t tell me what happened to it! You all keep _lying_ to me! It’s not fair! What happened?!”

 _Tell me he was lying. Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me this is all a mistake._ He silently begs Stanley to make this all go away. To give him some proof that he was wrong, that maybe he did mishear. A good reason why they couldn’t sail away from everything, why they were here instead. He needs it.

Stan is looking angrier with each question. “Ford, this isn’t the time to talk about this. Come back inside and we’ll—”

He’s still dodging the question! “Why? Why is this not the time?!” Ford’s actually yelling now, thrusting his fists at his sides. He deserves to know; it's not right. The boat was just as much his as Stanley's. It belonged to him as much as Stanley; he didn’t have a right to take away even the knowledge of it. “Tell me why you won’t tell me!”

“Because I said so and I'm the adult, Stanford!” he starts marching towards him, longer strides getting him closer faster than Ford can stumble backwards; Ford nearly trips as he tries and fails to keep the distance. He doesn’t like this; he doesn’t like any of this. “Now stop being childish and get back inside!”

“Just because you look like Dad doesn't mean you have to act like him!” as soon as he says it, he regrets it, slapping his hands over his mouth.

He can hear the muffled sound of crying inside their cardboard fort, can hear Stan's choked “Don't tell Dad" while clutching a pair of broken glasses to his chest. Can hear the crack of their dad’s belt because Ford didn't have to tell, he already knew.

“I—I didn’t mean that. I mean, I just...I deserve to know. I just want to know why.” He didn't mean it. Stanley could never—

A bark of a laugh startles him, sending him back a few extra steps. The look on Stan's face is no longer angry but it still scares Ford. It's worse than angry, it's _vindictive_. “You want to know what happened?” he sweeps his hands out in front of him, gesturing to the space that was still between them. “I cut the rope and let it drift out to sea!”

Ford hears the blood rush in his ears and everything spins for a moment like he's standing at the edge of a cliff overlooking a massive drop. His arms go slack at his sides as he feels everything drain away. “You...you cut the rope?” he can hear the way his voice cracks and shakes, his throat tight. The knots they’d spent hours and hours practicing so the boat would never come loose, never drift away while they weren’t there once they could get it in the water. All for nothing if Stan took a knife to the rope. “ _Why_? Why would you _do that_?!” his voice catches on a hitched breath and his vision swims with hot tears. “Why?” it doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense!

The look is gone and now Stan looks sad now. “Because things don’t work out, Sixer. It’s…” he runs a hand through his gray hair and looks away; he looks so _old_ all of a sudden and it makes Ford so much sadder. “Because it’s not us against the world. Because life isn’t what we planned it to be. It’s not what either of us wanted, but it’s the way life is.”

 _No, that's not what you're supposed say_. _You’re supposed to fix this._

“You said I hated you.” he shakes his head and hates the feeling of the tears escaping. Pines men weren't supposed to cry. A horrible idea occurs to him and he looks up at his brother in fear. “Do you hate me?” he can’t imagine anything worse. What would he do without Stanley? What were they if they weren’t a team?

“What? God, Ford, no.” Stan moves forward and Ford can't bring himself to move, not even as Stan grabs his shoulders. “Sixer, I could never hate you. Never.”

Ford drops his chin to his chest. He actually doesn't want to believe him. He wants Stan to hate him because that might be better. Maybe it's not just his fault. If they hate each other then they could forgive each other. They could both be sorry and then neither of them had to be. But he does believe him. “But I can hate you.” He doesn't want to be that kind of person. He never wants to be someone that could hate Stan. He never wants to go ten years, thirty years, whatever without Stanley as his best friend. “That’s who I become. He was right.”

Stan gives his shoulders a squeeze, sounding apprehensive, “Who was right, Ford?” he shakes Ford by the shoulders slightly. “Sixer, who have you been talking to?”

He's not going to let this happen. “I’m going to fix this.” He promises, clenching his fists. “I’m not going to let myself be that. I'm not going to let me ruin everything.” Ford looks up at his brother and pushes forward to hug him around the neck. He can feel Stan almost fall over as he squeezes him. “I'm going to make it alright again, Lee. I promise.” then he lets go and takes off back towards the trees, ignoring Stan's shouts for him.

It's dark but he never feels lost as he runs through the trees. He can feel eyes on him from the trees but he ignores them. He's run through these woods a thousand times, he's sure. He runs with a hand on the rift in his pocket, feeling it's power radiating through the cloth. He doesn't know what it does or what Bill wants with it, but he'd find out. Bill gave him a weird feeling but he hadn't lied to him. If he could fix things, if they could stop him from becoming someone that could hate Stanley, that Stanley could give up on...He never wants to grow up if that's what he becomes.

“ ** _FINALLY._** ” He hears the voice when he stops for breath, hands on his knees and chest heaving slightly. Out of the trees steps an odd looking man covered in tattoos. His eyes are what catch Ford's attention, however. The right is faded but both glow yellow with slits for pupils; his face splits into a painful looking smile when he meets Ford's eyes. “ ** _WAS ALMOST WORRIED YOU DID SOMETHING STUPID LIKE TALK TO THE OTHERS. BUT YOU HAVE YET TO SERIOUSLY DISAPPOINT ME, FORDSY._** ”

Ford takes a few steps back, angling himself so the rift is away from Bill. He narrows his eyes at him. “You said you'd give me my dream back. What did you mean by that?”

Bill laughs that creepy, twisting laugh and leans back against a tree. “ ** _A PROJECT WE WERE WORKING ON TOGETHER BEFORE. A WAY TO GET US BOTH WHAT WE WANT. YOU WERE GOING TO BE THE MAN THAT CHANGED THE WORLD FOREVER. STANFORD PINES, A NAME NEVER MOCKED NOR FORGOTTEN._** ”

Unable to help it, Ford looks at his own hand, silently counting his fingers as they curl into a fist. Never mocked? Never forgotten? That sounded...nice. Being around Dipper and Mabel showed him how nice it was to have more friends, to have people that didn't care about his fingers. His ma always said they made him special but he'd never felt anything but shame for them. If he changed the world though then no one would ever care about his hands.

“What about you?” he peers up from his hand, frowning. “What do you want?”

The smile grows impossibly further. “ ** _I WANT TO HELP YOU. I WANT TO SHAPE THE WORLD INTO A PLACE WHERE FREAKS NEVER SEEM OUT OF PLACE._** ”

Never out of place. He looks at his fingers again, stretching them and curling them back in. He looks over the tattoos covering Bill’s head and face, at the pale color of his right eye.

“I don't want to grow up. Not if I become...someone like that.” Ford swallows and pulls out the rift, slowly unwrapping it. He looks into the swirling depth of it. “I just want a little more time with Stanley.”

Bill nods and holds out a hand. “ ** _YOU HAVE MY WORD, SIXER. JUST GIVE ME THE RIFT._** ”

Ford finds himself wishing he had the others with him as he puts the rift in Bill's hand. They'll understand later, he tells himself. They wanted him to be friends with Stanley and this would guarantee they would be for much longer.

He tucks his hands behind his back and tries to ignore the way his whole world seems to spin as Bill slams the rift on the ground.

The last thing he hears is that crazy laugh that fills the very air as he's consumed by cold, black water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tadaaaaa


	7. Why Would You Stick Together?

One moment he's yelling into the woods after his brother, torn on whether to run after him or go inside and get the kids, the next everything has gone to hell. Literally, he's pretty sure. There are enough fires and chaos for it to be a literal hell.

There's a hole in the sky, a giant rift that seems to continually fire out the sort of things Stan wishes he could make up for a tour. Walking teeth, floating faces, what Stan is pretty sure is human intestines tied into a bow with googly eyes. Thirty years in Gravity Falls and it still horrifies Stan.

The first few days it's crazy but manageable, just him and the kids. Stan makes a silent thanks to his brother for the barrier that seems to protect the Shack from the insanity of their town even as he worries for the kid. He hopes his brother can handle himself out there; he wasn't the tough one but he was the weird one and life was certainly weird enough right now. It's when the others start showing up, people from town and creatures from the woods, that’s when things get started to get crazy inside of the Shack. Stan lets the kids handle most of it; Mabel knits sweaters and keeps the morale up while Dipper organizes what little food they have and manages their limited space. It's packed and uncomfortable, but it's livable. Stan’s had worse.

Then Soos shows up with Wendy and Stan nearly hugs the stupid kids but catches himself in time to knock their hats off. Not like he was worried or anything. Wendy gives him a punch to the arm before they both wedge him into a hug that maybe he holds off fighting for a little bit before finally pushing them off.

“Hands off, apocalypse or not I'm still your boss.” He grumbles, straightening his suit jacket and looking away with a sniff.

“Whatever you say, you old codger.” Wendy laughs before dropping to her knee to accept a very excited hug from a very excited Mabel. “I was starting to think I'd never see you little dudes again.”

Mabel runs into her arms and hugs her extra tight. “We were worried that something had happened to you guys!” she bounces in place and presses her hands to Wendy’s cheeks, which were streaked with black grease paint. “You look like if a football player was awesome!”

Dipper is being picked up and hugged just as tight by Soos while Mabel fawns over Wendy. “What are things like out there? Are there still monsters coming out of the Rift? Have you guys seen Ford? He’s been missing all week and we don’t know how Bill got ahold of the rift from downstairs but—”

_CRAAAAAAACK_

The whole of the Shack shakes so violently that it sends several of the occupants to the floor; Stan is nearly one of them before he manages to catch himself on Soos’s shoulder. There's a nearly deafening sound of wood splintering and cracking; for a second Stan fears that the Shack is being destroyed again, that the barrier has failed, until he catches glimpse of trees falling through a hole in the boards of a window. The Shack shakes once more and this time Stan does slam hard on his knee from the force of it though Soos is quick to help him back to his feet as the tremors subside. A collective wince travels through the Shack as the sound of splintering trees is replaced by a long, loud honk that sounds like a car amplified. Stan turns the dial on his hearing aid way down as he stumbles his way to the front door.

As soon as he gets outside and sees the monstrosity that has pretty literally carved its way through the woods, Stan nearly slams the door shut again. Then he sees the figure standing on top of the Thunderdome wannabe mechanical beast. He swears that the air suddenly stinks like baby powder and hairspray, a stench that has Stan’s cackles rising and his temples throbbing. A strangled hiss of “Gideon” escapes his clenched teeth, one that he hears echoed by the kids behind him.

There’s one big, heavily modified truck on which Gideon stands next to a large, heavily tattooed man that Stan thinks he may have done time with at some point. To each side of the Monster Truck are two cars equally modified to look fit in an apocalyptic Australia. Or regular Australia, given Stan’s own experience with the country. Some have axes attached to mechanisms that still have them swinging, some buzzsaws. The big truck has what looks like if a snowplow had a baby with a spiked maul attached to its front.

Gideon himself is decked out like a kid in cowgirl themed beauty pageant, tassels and all. “If it isn’t my old revolting enemies, the Pines!” he calls out before making a gesture. The giant muscular man picks him up and carries him down.

Stan is very tempted to just switch his hearing aid off but turns it back to normal as he steps out the front door. He lets the twins step in front of him but grabs them by the back of their shirts before they get too far ahead of him. Dipper’s got one of Ford’s science gun things tucked into the back of his shorts; Stan wonders if giving the kid access to Ford’s lab to get supplies may have been a bad idea. Well, no time to worry about that now.

“You’re seriously working with Bill again, Gideon? You know he’s just using you!” Dipper yells, shrugging out of Stan’s hold on his shirt.

Gideon laughs, “Of course he is! I’m using him, it’s what makes a good friendship.” he hits the ground and makes an over exaggerated bow, hand extending towards Mabel. “And if it isn’t my queen. You are looking beautiful as always.”

Mabel’s hair is greasy from a week of no working plumbing since apparently the barrier kept out bad things but didn’t make running water keep working when society shut down. She has bags under her eyes from staying up knitting sweaters for everyone and everything that was in their house. Her fingers are covered in band-aids from sewing too enthusiastically. She’s still the cutest thing in the whole world to Stan, even though last he caught a whiff of her just reconfirmed that she and Dipper are indeed twins, but he can hear the practiced line in Gideon’s words and it activates ever protective instinct in him.

“You look like a cowboy pooped in a jar with a denim cozy.” she huffs, pointing her grappling hook at him.

He is so proud of her sometimes.

Gideon wrinkles his nose, “I see you still haven’t accepted our true love yet. Well, there will be time for that. You’ll learn to love me.”

“Uh, boss, isn’t that a little creepy? I mean, you’re kinda perpetuating the negative mentality of women as subservient creatures with no will of their own as opposed to equal partners whose consent should be at the utmost of priority.” the ex-con next to Gideon says, rubbing his chin.

Gideon stamps his foot, his stupid fat face flushing red. “We’ll be equal when she’s my queen, Ghost-Eyes!”

“Oh, that makes sense.” Ghost-Eyes nods and leans forward. “He’s a very nice guy once you get to know him.” he smiles a somewhat charming smile, given the blank whiteness of his eyes, though the smile will likely be ruined given the teeth on the ground after Mabel’s grappling hook hits him square in the mouth.

Mabel slaps her hand against Dipper’s without having to look up. “He tried to kill my brother. Like twice. Let him have it, Bro-Bro!”

Dipper pulls the gun out of the back of his pants and tries to twirl it on his finger the way Ford does but only succeeds in nearly dropping it. He rights himself and aims it right at Gideon. “Get away from our house, Gideon! Tell Bill we’re gonna take him down!”

Gideon scowls and snaps his fingers; the four cars all rev their engine, their axes and buzzsaws kicking back to life. “Tear it down, boys.”

His first thought is that the gun isn’t actually a gun. The second is that maybe it’s probably better that it’s not a murder gun because out of all the conversations Stan’s prepared to have with the kids, ‘how to deal with the crippling guilt of taking a human life’ is definitely not one of them. Instead of a beam of nerdy energy blasting out to tear apart the little shit, an electric current sort of wave shoots out. One moment the truck and the cars are there and the next they’re flying back through the path of destruction they’d cut through the forest, a chorus of screams and grinding metal following them.

Dipper gasps and looks at the device that just managed to single-handedly send five cars away. “Oh, it’s a magnet.” his surprise lets him know that it probably was a bad idea to give the kid access to Ford's lab.

“You didn’t know that?!” Mabel’s voice sounds torn on fear and laughter.

“I don’t know! Great Uncle Ford doesn’t label his things!”

“Ooh, we should get him a label maker!”

Stan clears his throat, “Uh, kids?” he points to where Gideon is still standing in front of their house.

Apparently, the cowgirl outfit had a lot of metal in it, given the disgusting view of a chubby child in his underwear ahead of them. Gideon's whole face has gone red with probably fury and embarrassment and Stan sorely wishes he had some balloons filled with paint to throw at the kid. Mabel probably had some glitter inside for a non-lethal tar and feathering.

“Y-you! How dare you! I swear on my name that I shall have my revenge! And if you think your stupid brother will get away after this transgression, Stanley Pines, you have—what are you doing, hey!” Gideon's threat loses a lot of hot air as Stan stomps his way over, ignoring the con Mabel had knocked out.

He grabs the little shit by the fat on the back of his neck and lifts him just enough to hurt a bit. “What do you know about my brother, you demented little gremlin?”

Gideon squirms in his grip and lets out a small little whine when Stan gives him a squeeze. “I-I’m not scared of you, Stanley Pines! Bill has told me all about you.”

Stan considers that a moment and how comfortable he is with personally hurting a child. He turns his attention back to the Shack where the kids are still on the porch, Mabel reloading the grappling hook and Dipper looking over the magnet gun. In the doorway, Wendy and Soos are watching, Wendy with one of her dad's axes in her hands. Perfect.

“Wendy, you wanna come help me deal with a little pest control? Don't think the broom will handle it this time.” He gives Gideon a little shake.

Gideon snorts as Wendy makes her way over. “What is a scrawny girl like her gonna do?”

“Well, there are some options.” Wendy cracks her knuckles as she says it and Stan makes a mental note to give her a raise. “There's all the stuff I learned doing lumberjack games. There's the apocalypse survival training I've had. Or there are the boxing lessons Mr. Pines gave me. Either way, I think I'm gonna break your butt and turn you into a winter coat.”

The noise that Gideon makes is like someone fused one of those squeaky mouse toys with an actual mouse and he actually tries to hide behind Stan’s legs as the girl approaches. “W-wait! Let's make a deal! I'd be willing to trade some information about your brother if Mabel—"

“We're not giving you Mabel you over powdered freak!” Dipper yells, incensed and protective of his sister in an instant. “What is wrong with you? How can you claim to like someone so much but not care about how they feel? Mabel’s not some—"

Mabel reaches over to squeeze her brother’s shoulder and maybe the smile she gives him melts Stan's heart just a little. She hands him her grappling hook as she makes her way over to where Gideon is still cowering behind Stan. “What do you want in exchange for telling us where Ford is?”

That is enough for Gideon to come out and Stan actually lets go of his neck. He looks at Wendy and with a small jerk of his jaw, she moves to stand next to Stan behind Gideon, axe held ready.

Gideon makes a move like he's going to straighten a collar before seeming to remember that he's only wearing a pair of tighty-whities. He clears his throat before giving what Stan assumes he thinks is a charming smile. It looks more like curdled milk given sentience. “My dearest Mabel. While my fondest wish would be for you to be my queen and rule at my side, I would be willing to settle for a more reasonable down payment on our everlasting love. Perhaps a kiss or HURGH!”

Stan, Dipper, Soos, and probably every man in a fifty-mile radius instantly flinches in sympathy as Mabel’s foot connects solidly with Gideon’s groin. Stan never thought he'd feel bad for the little rodent but seeing him hit his knees actually brings a twinge to his heart for the kid. It's mostly swallowed up in pride for his great-niece, however. Once Gideon’s on the ground she gives him a kick to the shoulder the gets him all the way down and coughing on dirt.

“Why is every boy that likes me a creep that wants me as their queen?! Why do you all think hurting my family will make me like you?! I love my family!” she yells in frustration, giving him another kick. “Now where is my uncle?! He's little and nice and he's finally friends with Grunkle Stan and if you ruin that I'm going to shave your stupid head!”

“Ahh! Mabel please, I—" Gideon tries to plead but Mabel is having none of it.

“I ASKED WHERE MY UNCLE WAS!” She kicks him harder and now Dipper is running up to pull her back a few steps. “Summer is almost over! We only have a few weeks left together and I'm not going to let you or a stupid triangle stop us from being a family!”

Gideon curls up on himself, hands over his head. “Family is such a thing with you Pines.” He speaks into the dirt and there's something raw to his tone. “You all keep fighting for each other and nearly dying for each other. Even when it'd be easier to give in. It doesn't make any sense.”

“We love each other. What doesn't make sense about that?” Dipper still has a hand on Mabel’s shoulder and they exchange another set of smiles that has Stan's heart acting funny. “No matter what happens, we got each other.”

Wherever we go, we go together.

Gideon doesn't look up from the dirt as he speaks. “There's a giant bubble near the Northwest mansion. I was supposed to bring you there. Your brother’s inside. That's what Bill said.”

It’s a simple process to get Gideon hog-tied and thrown into a closet; the Multibear is happy to guard the door in case the little cretin tries anything. Stan sends the kids to gather supplies for the latest Mission: Rescue Ford, taking the excuse to be alone with Soos and Wendy. He takes both of his employees back outside to talk with them where he knows the kids can’t hear him. “Okay, so, I’ve got to go save my brother—”

“Again.” Wendy adds in a bored tone because she’s a teenager and sometimes Stan’s favorite.

“Yeah, you’re, like, a total pro at that by now, dude!” Soos laughs cause he is also Stan’s favorite. Sometimes. Most of the time. Shut up.

Stan huffs for good measure in case any degree of pride or affection showed on his for a moment there and nods. “Yeah, again. And the kids are coming with me so, as much as it pains me to say this, but as the only two people here I can even remotely stand, and I say that _extremely_ lightly…” he shivers, “You two are in charge of the Shack.”

A grunt escapes him as he’s suddenly being crushed between his two sometimes favorites; apparently, it’s a hug-heavy day. And Stan is definitely getting sentimental in his old age because once again he lets them. Well until Soos does this weird nuzzle thing to his shoulder and then Stan is shoving them both back and definitely not making a show of straightening his suit jacket. “Calm down. This is just because it’s next to impossible for you to make any of this worse. Probably.”

“Love you too, Mr. Mystery.” Wendy somehow manages to give the most sarcastic salute that Stan has ever seen and he was once held in a marine jailhouse for the twelve hours after New Year’s. She uses the momentum to prop her elbow up on Soos’s shoulder. “Don’t worry; we’ll make sure everything is more or less solid here. You guys go save Stan Jr.”

Stan opens his mouth, wanting to ask if Wendy even knew Ford’s name, but thinks better of it. After thirty years of being Ford, it’s kinda funny to think of Ford being him. “Alright. Soos, you’re in charge of keeping the house together. You’re a handyman and you know this place better than probably me at this point.”

Soos gives a much more sincere salute, smacking his forehead with a wrench that Stan is entirely sure wasn’t there a second ago. “Sir, yes, sir! Sir!”

Stan rolls his eyes and points to Wendy. “You. You’re Captain of the Guard. Beat up anything that tries to mess with this place. If you run out of food, eat the gnomes.”

“Gnomes are too chewy. Multibear will be better meat.”

That actually makes Stan snort and he gives Soos’s shoulder a smack. “Whatever. Get back inside before the kids finish getting ready.” the last thing he wanted was them to know he was doing something as stupid as putting Soos and Wendy in charge of anything.

He is following Soos back inside when Wendy grabs his arm to stop him; her face is bright red and she can't make eye contact with him which is very strange. It’s like a switch has been flipped with her which does not help Stan’s confidence in what this is about. “Listen, I was mostly kidding about eating the gnomes.” he wasn’t but it feels like a good thing to lie about.

Wendy shakes her head and looks to the side, rubbing at her arm. “Just...be careful, okay?” her voice is a lot quieter than what Stan is used to. “Things are really crazy out there and if anything was to happen to you guys...I don’t know what I’d do.”

That ugly, stupid soft spot in Stan’s heart is growing even more and he pushes the girl’s hat down on her head in response to it, mussing it as if it was her actual hair. “Don’t worry about it; I’ll keep the kids safe.”

“Not just the kids, old man. Those two together could conquer the world.” she straightens her hat and glares at him, though there’s very little heat to it. Her cheeks burn so red that her freckles vanish. “I’m talking about you. Be careful with yourself.” she punches his arm and there is a little bit of heat to that. “I’m not gonna say it but you know how Soos and me feel about you and this place.”

Three years ago, Manly Dan showed up at the Shack with a bratty girl being dragged by the back of her shirt, hair in braided pigtails and a pout on her face. A promise of discounts on future major repairs to the Shack which was guaranteed by that point and an employee that didn’t necessarily need to be paid exactly minimum wage all the time. She’d been full of backchat and an attitude that Stan would never admit to being endeared to.

Stan will also never admit to the fact that he put an arm around her outside of the Shack, squeezing her to his side. She was the worst employee he’d ever had but he feels that soft spot spread even further at the feeling of her arm around his back.

“If the place is still standing when I get back, you’ll get a raise.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s a giant bubble alright. Big and swirling with purple energy. The air of it makes the hair on Stan’s arms stand on end and the scar on his back burn faintly. Part of him wants to say fuck it to the whole thing and go back to the safety of the Shack. The food was limited but there were plenty of gnomes to munch on if it lasted too long. But a glimpse of the kids, Mabel pointing her grappling hook up at the giant bubble with her tongue poking out and Dipper flipping through the Journals, tells him that there’s no going back without his brother.

He reminds himself that he likes little Ford, that the kid had the decency to thank him. Part of him wishes he could be a coward about the whole thing but he knows, kids or not, there’s no way he could let Ford stay stuck in there. Maybe adult Ford because this was all his fault for building the stupid machine and making deals with triangles, but kid Ford hasn’t done anything wrong.

“Give that here. C’mon.” Stan takes the grappling hook from Mabel before hefting her up onto his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Then he scoops Dipper up, holding him like a football under his arm. “Any idea what’s in there, kid?”

“Probably the worst kind of torture and magic Bill could think of.” Dipper sounds way too grim.

“Fantastic.” he sighs and aims the grappling hook up towards the massive bubble of energy. Tightening his hold on the kids, he says a silent hope this doesn't kill me and fires.

There’s a very confusing moment of positioning once the hook pierces the bubble; at once he feels himself being pulled up while also falling down. The damaged forest and the giant mansion twist and warp like someone splashed water on Stan's glasses. He has to grip the kids extra tight as they fly/fall, nearly losing hold when all of a sudden the air is punched out of him. Icy cold water that burns his mouth with salt invades when he tries to breathe in. His eyes shoot open even though he didn't remember closing him and there, the rippled glass of light shining on water is above them. Stan shoves the kids up towards the light and starts kicking.

Should've actually swam at the pool instead of fighting over chairs. Stan doesn't remember it straining so much as a kid.

They break the surface with a chorus of gasps. Stan has to shove his glasses, speckled with water, up to his forehead and squint to see as he looks around. An ocean stretches as far as Stan can see, its waters impossibly blue and picturesque. All it was missing was a sunset to be the perfect postcard. It's ruined slightly by the taste of salt that has invaded every part of his mouth from the inhale but in other circumstances this could be nice.

“Grunkle Stan, look!” Mabel calls out, point out over the water. He follows the line of her point to see something pink or purple poking out of the water. When he squints his eyes he can see a pair of big black eyes staring at them. “It looks so cute!”

“I thought you’d like it!” a voice calls from their left and they all look; there’s nothing but the sea still as far as they can see. Then, in the blink of an eye, a ship appears. There’s no splash, it just appears as if it had always been there, the air rippling around it like heat waves on pavement.

The waves break against the hull as it cuts through the water like a knife through butter. It's bigger than the Stan O War ever was, more of an actual ship than the dingy little fishing boat they'd rebuilt, but he can feel the same old tug to it. It's beautiful; the wood dark and polished to a shine without a speck of damage or wear to it. The sails are massive but still have the familiar lines of stitching that matched every patched piece of clothing they'd had as kids; Stan can still hear their dad’s annoyed grumbling as their ma showed them how to do it themselves, claims that they shouldn't be learning to do women's work. Same stitching that was on so many of the attractions in the Shack. Same stitching that was basically the only thing keeping his suit together at this point.

“Old Stanley! You're here finally!” They look up to see Ford leaning over the edge, small face lit up. “Took you guys long enough! Come on, you're gonna love it.” he disappears behind the railing and a ladder is thrown over the side. Stan helps the kids get on first before he starts climbing; keeping one eye on the creature that seems to be getting steadily closer.

His brother looks like the bastard child of a scientist and a pirate. His coat looks like the old battered leather ones you'd see on TV only bright white. The shirt beneath it is a clean red button-up with a pocket bulging with pens. His hat, big as befitting a captain, had not a feather but a withered old hand clinging to its band. And upon his shoulder is a possum with a tiny pirate’s cutlass tied to its back. When they're all standing on the deck, Ford hugs Stan about the legs and Stan has to suppress the urge to shake him.

I’m going to make it alright again, Lee.

“I've been waiting for you guys all week! I knew you would come so I’ve been getting everything ready for you!” Ford grins cheekily as he lets go of Stan's legs. “I think everything is perfect now! Check this out!” he snaps his fingers and out of the thin air appears a rolled up piece of old parchment. Ford unrolls it and when it's held out, Stan can see that it's a map. The ink is smudged in places but the lines and handwriting are the same that Stan had been staring at for thirty years. There’s Xs littering the sketched land masses and monsters Stan’s never seen drawn amongst the waves.

“What is all this? We came to rescue you from Bill.” Dipper asks, frowning at the map and then at Ford.

Ford gives a snort of a laugh. “Rescue me? What are you talking about? This is the best place ever.” he throws his hands out and does a small spin. “There are monsters and treasure and any book I've ever wanted to read! Ma’s latkes anytime you want one! It's everything we ever wanted, Stanley!”

Mabel nearly bowls her brother over, “Great Grandma’s latkes?!”

It's better than everything they'd ever wanted, he thinks as he casts a look about the ship and over the water. He’s not able to resist taking a deep breath of the salt air, relishing the slight sting of it in his nose. It’s been so long since he breathed proper sea air, for as proper as this bubble of magic was. It's all slightly ruined by the fact that he's standing in his father's old suit, torn in various places from the last week and sodden with sea water but the ship still sings to him. The sea and the salt and wood grain beneath his hand sings like a home he's never really known.

But Stan's been conning long enough to smell one. It was all too perfect, he thinks as he rubs a hand over part of the railing, feeling the polished wood. No one just got what they wanted without paying a cost. There was something beneath the surface of this place that set Stan on edge and had an itch digging at the base of his spine. They were being played, he just couldn't see the angle of why.

“Grunkle Ford, we’ve been worried about you all week.” he looks over at where Mabel is hugging his brother, lifting him off his feet and sending the possum skittering off his shoulder. She rubs her cheek to his. “We thought Bill had done something terrible to you like when he possessed Dipper.”

“Possessed?” Ford sounds confused before pulling him away from Mabel’s hug. “No! I’m fine. Bill gave me this place. It can be anything we want. Watch!” he snaps his fingers again and Mabel’s outfit is instantly changed to a dress, long and glittery like a princess from one of those animated movies. Another snap and Waddles appears next to her wearing a suit over his fat little body.

Mabel’s eyes are full of what Stan is pretty sure is actual stars. “Oh my god, this is amazing.” she ducks down to hug her pig. “Sir Waddles the Handsome!”

“And Dipper, you and I can be research partners!” Ford is grinning wide and snaps his fingers once more. Dipper's outfit is morphed to a treasure hunting type outfit, all rugged looking khakis and a button up with his baseball cap replaced by a wide-brimmed fedora. Another snap and an old-fashioned compass appears in his hand. “That'll point in the direction of any monster and I have a full lab inside the ship for us to study things!”

Dipper gets a similar starry-eyed look to his sister, holding the compass close to his chest. “A chance to study the crazy and unknown with Great Uncle Ford?” He whispers in awe.

“We can be a family of adventurers!” Ford is beaming, bouncing slightly in place. “We can stay here, together! And look!” Another snap and this time Stan feels his whole body start to tingle.

It happens all at once; one second he's looking down at the kids and the next he's at eye level with Ford. His hands are no longer big, gone are the years of calluses and tiny scars, replaced by smooth skin. When he looks down at himself, he can see an outfit that nearly matches Ford's except his leather coat is black and his shirt is a striped T-shirt. His tongue finds the gap between his front teeth that lasted until braces sealed it when he was fourteen. Everything around him suddenly feels too big.

Ford nearly tackles him with a hug, squeezing tight enough to drag Stan out of the weird disconnect with his body. He grabs Stan by the shoulders and now that they're eye to eye Stan can see that he's never seen his brother so happy before. “See? It's perfect, Stan! We never have to grow up!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your patience with me. It's been a long past few months and it was really hard to work on this but I think I can get back to writing regularly again.
> 
> Hope this is worth the wait and I'm really looking forward to the next couple of chapters. <3


End file.
